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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29418033">a taste of chaos</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Spark_Of_Hope/pseuds/A_Spark_Of_Hope'>A_Spark_Of_Hope</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The High Republic: Light of the Jedi - Charles Soule</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidental Beauty and the Beast Vibes, Body Image, Canon Divergent, Canon Era, Electrocution, Eventual Overlap with the High Republic, Eventual Smut, F/M, Kidnapping, Light Bondage, Masturbation, Mentions of Pregnancy, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Non-Ship Smut, Oral Sex, Power Dynamics, Praise Kink, Pregnant Sex, Spanking, Star Wars: The High Republic - Freeform, Vaginal Fingering, but I ain't mad about it, eventual pregnancy, i swear it was an accident</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:08:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>59,753</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29418033</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Spark_Of_Hope/pseuds/A_Spark_Of_Hope</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Marchion Ro, the Eye of the Nihil, desperately needs a new navigator. His people needs Paths and he needs information to help him settle an old score. He thinks he's found just the navigator in Sola San Tekka, a woman whose family has a special ability for navigating hyperspace. </p><p>Sola is a widow with a gift for technology and numbers who resents her husband's family and her isolation on an Outer Rim moon. A San Tekka by marriage only, she doesn't possess their legendary navigational prowess.</p><p>Sola is enthralled with her newfound freedom, but also desperate to keep her secret from the mysterious Marchion, who is himself desperate to maintain his place among the Nihil.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Marchion Ro/Original Female Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>89</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>New, uncharted territory! </p><p>If you're here, then you, like me, are probably completely fascinated with the scary, sexy masked Eye of the Nihil from the High Republic books, in which case welcome!</p><p>If you've read the book, I've diverged slightly from where Light of the Jedi leaves off (the Loden stuff). I'll meet back up with it in some modified capacity down the line!</p><p>A couple of things to keep in mind before we start:</p><p>1. The rating is M for now, but might go up to E, we'll play it by ear</p><p>2. I am going to add tags as I go. I've tagged the things I'm confident will come up, but I don't want to overpromise and then not deliver. I will ALWAYS mention it off the top when I add a new tag, so you won't have to check every time.</p><p>Ok, enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The <em> Gaze Electric </em>, flagship of the Nihil, hovered in No Space. Normally surrounded by others of the Nihil fleet, it was the only ship visible in the nothingness. The rest of the Nihil were gone, carrying out missions on behalf of their people and with the blessing of the one they called the Eye.</p><p>The Eye himself, Marchion Ro, stood imperiously on the darkened bridge of his ship, head tilted down to the man at his feet. Despite his beaten and bloodied condition, the man had the wherewithal to cower in fear at Marchion’s gaze. </p><p>Marchion had opted for darker colours today, the better to intimidate his prisoner with. It appeared to be working. The black of his clothing against the steely bluish-grey of his skin, made for an unforgiving picture in a room such as this, that was lit only by the mercy of the stars beyond the windows. The bridge was too dark for the man to see much more than Marchion’s helmet, the crimson jewel-bright eyepieces glinting menacingly. </p><p>“Three weeks,” Marchion said, his voice eerily calm. “It has been three weeks since you’ve produced anything of value for me. Before that, it was barely useable. Remind me why I keep you alive.”</p><p>The man managed little more than a theatrically shaky exhale. Marchion rolled his concealed eyes and stepped away from the pathetic man whimpering on the ground. </p><p>It had been nearly two months since his pilot and navigator Mari San Tekka had died, taking her legendary skill with her. No one understood the Paths through hyperspace the way Mari did. The knowledge she’d shared with Marchion even as her body deteriorated with age and illness was precious to him - not least because among the Nihil it was <em> he </em> who was attributed with the gift of navigation, as his father had been before him.</p><p>As she faded, he’d sought out another of her clan in the hopes that they shared her prodigious skill. Fortune had favoured him on the edges of Wildspace when they came across a ship owned and piloted by the San Tekka family. In his way, Marchion liked to think that Mari had led them there on purpose, but by that point her mind was so gone, he ought to just consider it lucky they hadn’t dropped out of the Path directly in the middle of the ship.</p><p>Marchion led a small crew of Strikes - the lowest among the Nihil and therefore the most eager - to take the transport. It was almost amusing how unprepared they were.  The Nihil were not unknown in this part of the galaxy, yet the settlers and outsiders refused to adapt their fighting style. So much the better, as far as Marchion was concerned.</p><p>It was uncommon for the Eye to enter battle himself. If he should be killed, the knowledge of the Paths would disappear with him. But this mission could not be undertaken without him. The Nihil were not known for giving quarter, and he needed to bring a certain person back to his ship alive.</p><p>The San Tekka crew led him right to his quarry before meeting their demise. Marchion bludgeoned Aurel San Tekka and carried him back aboard the <em> Gaze Electric </em>, leaving the Strikes to finish the job. </p><p><em> At last </em> , he’d thought. <em> Someone to take over wherever Mari leaves off </em>.</p><p>But It wasn’t to be. Aurel San Tekka possessed none of Mari’s skill and no manner of persuasion, be it rational or violent, was enough to induce him to try. The man had remained aloof and stubborn until he’d been taught the price paid by those who would defy Marchion. And though for a time he’d managed to produce some information of use, now he lay on the bridge, a broken man of no use to anyone.</p><p>“I present an alternative,” Marchion said at last, returning to stand above Aurel. “Give me the name of another of your  clan. One who might possess the skill you sorely lack.”</p><p>“Why should I?” Aurel sneered. “The likes of me don’t answer to the likes of you.”</p><p><em> Not this again </em>, Marchion thought, delivering a swift kick to Aurel’s gut.</p><p>“Provide me with the information I require. A name, coordinates, and perhaps I’ll let you live.”</p><p>“Perhaps?” Aurel croaked in disbelief.</p><p>“Failure to provide what I have requested will result in your immediate death, yes.”</p><p>Marchion crouched down, bringing his masked face closer to the man’s. Aurel recoiled as much as he was able.</p><p>“I’m waiting,” he said quietly.</p><p>Aurel remained silent. </p><p>“Pak!” Marchion called. “Deal with this.”</p><p>The guard stationed by his door, a menacing, scarred besalisk named Pak scrambled into the room, blaster armed and pointed. Aurel’s eyes widened in panic.</p><p>“Wait! Wait,” he gasped. “I’ll tell you.”</p><p>Marchion held up a gloved hand to stay Pak’s hand. Information began to tumble out of Aurel - a name, a moon, and the exact location on the moon where the person in question could be found.</p><p>“Thank you,” Marchion said softly. He nodded at Pak, who raised his blaster again and shot Aurel clean through the temple. </p><p>Marchion prodded the curled-up body, which then splayed out on the ground. A flash of gold on the man’s hand caught his attention. Two rings: a simple band and a larger one emblazoned with the San Tekka family crest. Marchion slid both off his fingers.</p><p>“Dispose of this,” he said to Pak. He dropped the smaller of the two rings into the besalisk’s hand. “I trust this remains between us.”</p><p>“Of course, Marchion,” Pak said, lifting Aurel’s body as though it were a sack of grain and departing the way he came.</p><p>Marchion sat down at the helm, fiddling with the larger ring fora moment before slipping it into the pocket of his sleeveless jacket.</p><p>He plotted the course using conventional means. No one would question why he wasn’t using the Paths. The moon they were headed to was not far away, and they controlled this space besides. </p><p>Their destination? Cyone.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p><em> I hate it here </em>, Sola San Tekka thought bitterly, gazing out of her massive kitchen window at the rolling hills beyond.</p><p>The small moon of Cyone was many things. It was a world given over to agriculture, to artisans and craftspeople. It was a place where the weather was almost always perfect, making it an ideal spot for travellers within the Outer Rim. It was, by all accounts a slice of paradise to all who lived there, or happened to visit it. </p><p>To all, that is, except Sola San Tekka. </p><p>She gripped the kitchen counter so hard her knuckles turned white. She thought about screaming out in frustration, but that would only alarm the handful of servants who remained at the house with her, and one of them would doubtless report her outburst back to the San Tekkas. It mattered little that she’d been mistress of this house for nine, nearly ten years. Their loyalty didn’t lie with her.</p><p>She resumed kneading the ball of dough that lay before her, pouring every ounce of her anger into it with as much determination as she’d added the other ingredients. So aggressive were her hands that she gave up on the bread baking properly. </p><p>“Just as well,” she muttered dryly to the semi-sticky lump on the counter. “Since when has the great Tala San Tekka ever eaten anything I’ve put in front of her.”</p><p>Nevertheless, she continued to knead. Baking had always comforted her, after her instructors at the academy back on Coruscant advised her to find a pursuit that didn’t involve so much time spent hunched over data pads and screens. She’d resented it at the time, but began to use it as a refuge. Whenever a particular problem presented itself in the technical realm, she could always retreat to something far more material, allowing the routine motions and precise instructions to dictate her actions, freeing her mind to consider whatever challenge lay before her.</p><p>Unfortunately, no amount of baking could prepare her for the particular problem facing her today. She’d been a prisoner in this house, on this world long enough. Today, she bartered for her freedom, and she didn’t intend to stop until she got it.</p><p>She finished preparing the dough and set it aside to rise. Not a moment too soon, it seemed. The deathly silence of the house was broken by the sound of a transport landing in the small dock on the edge of her property. </p><p>She washed her hands thoroughly, stripped off the apron she wore and smoothed down the skirt of her solemn black dress. </p><p>“Madam,” one of the servants said, standing by the door of the kitchen. “Your mother-in-law has arrived.”</p><p>“I’ll see her in here.”</p><p>The servant hesitated. </p><p>“Madam, I believe she expects-”</p><p>“After all this time, am I still to do as <em> she </em> expects? In <em> my </em> home? The kitchen will do just fine.”</p><p>As if to illustrate her point, she retreated to the large, scrubbed wooden table and sat down in one of the carved chairs. She glared at the servant, a single dark eyebrow raised in challenge. After a tense stand-off, the servant bobbed and retreated from the kitchen. </p><p>She would pay dearly for the insolence, if the sound of her mother-in-law’s displeased voice echoing up from the hallway was any indication.</p><p>Tala San Tekka glided into the room, and Sola shot to her feet at once. Her hawk-like features gazed imperiously up at Sola, a frightening sight despite the almost comical difference in their heights.</p><p>“Sola Taray,” Tala snapped. “What kind of way is this to greet your guests? Is this how it’s done in the Core?”</p><p>Sola bristled at the use of her maiden name, offering the family matriarch a tight-lipped smile. She gestured to the empty seat across from her own and called in a servant to prepare tea.</p><p>She had been married nine years to Aurel San Tekka, and still was not seen by the family as one of their own. Things were unlikely to change now that her husband was missing, and presumed dead after that disastrous encounter with the Nihil on the edge of Wildspace. It wasn’t that she particularly <em> wanted </em> to be a San Tekka, but she resented being treated as an outsider in the only home she had.</p><p>Tala sipped at the tea placed in front of her and - as expected - wrinkled her nose in polite disgust. </p><p>“You wanted to see me?” she said to Sola, setting her cup down.</p><p>“I want to go back to the Core,” Sola said, before she could lose her nerve.</p><p>“Ridiculous. Your life is here,” Tala sniffed dismissively. </p><p>Sola huffed in frustration. </p><p>“With Aurel gone-”</p><p>“<em> We don’t know that </em>,” Tala hissed.</p><p>“It was the Nihil, Tala,” Sola said, exasperated. “No one survives a Nihil attack.” </p><p>They had this conversation at least twice a week for the last 2 months since he’d disappeared. Tala seemed to hold out hope that her son was alive somewhere.</p><p>“He might still return,” Tala said, as she always did. </p><p>Sola scoffed.</p><p>“Then why has he been gone so long?”</p><p>Every time she asked this question, it became harder and harder for the old woman to ignore. </p><p>“He wouldn’t abandon his family,” she said stubbornly.</p><p>“Even if the Nihil cared about his obligations to his family, Aurel never did,” Sola muttered.</p><p>“That man gave everything he had to you-”</p><p>“And to every other woman on Cyone,” she said before she could stop herself.</p><p>Tala slammed her tea down on the table. </p><p>“I won’t hear this, you ungrateful Core-bred brat,” she said rising to her feet. “I will have you know-”</p><p>A long piercing wail cut through the air and both women froze. The sound was one every resident on the moon had come to be very familiar with. It signalled one of two things. If a second, shorter wail followed, a piece of debris from the Great Disaster was bound for the moon. A second long wail rang through the air, signalling the other threat. The one they’d all come to fear above all else.</p><p>“The Nihil,” Sola said, flying to the window. “They’re here.”</p><p>Tala was out of the kitchen before Sola had a chance to turn around. The servants scrambled around in a frenzy, flocking first to Tala, then to Sola when it appeared the San Tekka matriarch had no interests beyond her own safety.</p><p>Sola pushed past them all, striding out into the foyer so she could be heard without being crowded.</p><p>“All of you,” she called. “Down to the cellars. Bolt the doors. With any luck the battle won’t reach the surface and they’ll soon be gone.”</p><p>They dashed off without another word, back towards the kitchen where the stairs to the cellar lay. Sola, on the other hand, raced out the front door and into the sunshine.</p><p>The day seemed placid enough through the window, but the further she got from the house, the more frenzied the wind became. Her long dark hair was torn free from its loose bun and whipped around her face. Dust and grit blew off the road and into her eyes. Squinting, she peered towards the landing platform where Tala’s ship lifting into the air. Her eyes watered, washing away the dirt, and they cleared just in time for her to see her mother-in-law’s transport shot on the port side. The wing tumbled uselessly to the ground. The rest of the vehicle strained for a moment, before crashing down to the planet’s surface once more. </p><p>“Tala!” she screamed.</p><p>Sola hiked up her cumbersome skirt and tore off down the path towards the plume of smoke rising steadily. She pumped her legs as fast as they would carry her, ignoring the stitch in her chest. She cast her eyes in the direction of the main settlement. It had so far been spared, no telltale ribbons of black winding their way to the sky just yet. She then cast her glance upwards, looking for hints of an overhead battle with the Nihil. Nothing.</p><p>The wind worsened, seemed to draw closer. Her long skirts, pulled this way and that by the violent currents of air threw her off balance. A sudden gust behind her made her lose her balance entirely and sent her flying forward onto the stone path.</p><p>The air was knocked out of her lungs and her ears were ringing. She pressed scraped palms into the ground and pushed herself to her knees. Her face stung and burned. Rising unsteadily to her feet, she brought her fingers gingerly to her forehead. They came away warm, sticky and red. Swallowing down the panic and bile that rose in her throat, Sola limped towards the crash site until a gruff voice stopped her.</p><p>“You there, girl. Stop.”</p><p>She turned around slowly. The wind had all but died down, and it’s cause was now apparent. Three small transports stood between her and the house. Beings of all kinds stood on and around the boarding ramps, all glaring down at her, smirks on their scarred and painted faces. A Mirialan stood at the forefront of the group, and it was he who had spoken. </p><p>“We’re looking for someone. Sola San Tekka.”</p><p>Sola’s heart plummeted to her stomach. These people were clearly Nihil. She’d heard enough about the kinds of ships they flew and their general demeanour to guess that much. But why did they want <em> her </em>? How did they even know who she was, the inconsequential wife of a third son living on a middle of nowhere moon?</p><p>“I don’t know where she is,” she said, keeping her eyes low, as though deferring to their authority.</p><p>“It’s in your interest to help us, girl,” the Mirialan sneered, strutting towards her. “The Eye does not take displeasure well.”</p><p>
  <em> The Eye? </em>
</p><p>The Mirialan tilted Sola’s face up. They were almost the same height, but she’d never felt so small and afraid. She met the Mirialan’s eyes steadily, pushing her fear to the corner of her mind, where she could revisit it later, if she was still alive to do so. </p><p>“Come on,” he said, dropping his voice to a seductive whisper. “Tell us.”</p><p>“That’s her!” a voice cried out.</p><p>Another of the Nihil sprinted along the path, away from the wreckage of Tala’s ship. This one, a human, wore a mask painted with white and blue stripes, but pushed it up as she approached.</p><p>“Who?” the Mirialan asked. The newcomer pointed directly at Sola.</p><p>“That. That’s Sola San Tekka. The old lady told us.”</p><p>“Why didn’t you just say so,” the Mirialan said, releasing Sola’s chin roughly. “The old lady?”</p><p>“Dead.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>Sola hardly had time to register what they’d just said - that Tala had sold her out and they killed her for her troubles - before she felt something solid hitting her in the back of her head.</p><p>She felt nothing else for a while after that.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>From the oppressive light of the brig, her eyed had somewhat adjusted to the warmer light of the corridor. Now she felt all but plunged into darkness. She used the scant brightness of the holotable, and the bluish light above to guide herself forward towards what appeared to be a stage of some sort, housing a large chair. She walked slowly, letting her eyes adjust. Stopping in front of the stage she glanced up and gasped audibly. </p><p>A man sat in the chair - a throne really - and stared down at her.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Marchion Ro had little use for a throne room. Assemblies in the Great Hall of the Nihil served  just fine, the platform in the middle of No-Space surrounded by the cold, dark emptiness on an endless vacuum serving as an efficient deterrent for those who sought to waste his time. He rarely needed to hold court among his own Tempest, such as they were, preferring to delegate tasks out on a one-on-one basis as needed. </p><p>However, on the rare occasion he was in need of a private gathering space, his ready room on board the <em> Gaze Electric </em> served his purpose. When his father had been Eye, the room had functioned more as a throne room, a space where Tempest Runners came to consult with him. This had been during the construction of the Great Hall, and Marchion saw little reason to reserve the space for its original purpose.</p><p>The decor had changed little. In his father’s day, the space had been all opulence and splendour, the better to intimidate others with. When Marchion took over, such things were relegated to the Great Hall. The dark, windowless walls were now bare, and the lighting overhead was low so as not to interfere with the holotable set up in the centre. The sole item that remained from his father’s tenure was the ornate throne elevated on a platform slightly above the table on a platform against the back wall.</p><p>He reclined in the throne and gazed down at the two Tempest Runners that stood before him. He preferred a detached approach among his own Tempest, even though he was their leader. Things had taken a turn after they’d suffered losses at the hands of the Republic, and though he intended to repay the injustice, he was still confident enough to delegate. He liked it that way. It left him free to pursue avenues that were of little interest to marauders like his Tempest Runners.</p><p>His two remaining Tempest Runners, the Twi’lek Lourna Dee and Pan Eyta, a Dowutin, stood before him. They left a space between them out of habit, the space that had once been inhabited by Kassav, who had been killed by his own stupidity and arrogance in their clash with the Jedi. </p><p>“Marchion,” Pan Eyta began. “We need to get back out there. Every day, the Republic gets closer and closer to No-Space and-”</p><p>Marchion held up a hand for silence. Pan Eyta obeyed at once.</p><p>“With what resources? What becomes of Kassav’s Tempest?”</p><p>“We can divide his forces among ourselves,” Pan Eyta said, looking to Lourna Dee for confirmation. For her part, the Twi’lek stared straight ahead at Marchion, awaiting his word and biding her time. </p><p>“You would forget Kassav so quickly?” Marchion asked, his voice deadly and low. “After all he sacrificed.”</p><p>The Dowutin flushed at once.</p><p>“Of course not. Forgive me, Marchion.” </p><p>“I will appoint a new Tempest Runner to stand in his place. Someone I trust. Then, and <em> only then </em> will we resume our raids against the Republic.</p><p>Marchion was grateful he hadn’t removed his helmet. It no doubt masked the relief that washed over his face at Pan Eyta’s quick concession. In truth, he was delaying the appointment of a new Tempest Runner. He already had an ideal candidate in mind, but without anyone capable of navigating the Paths, he had to stall. </p><p>Which reminded him.</p><p>“Dismissed,” he said to the two Tempest Runners. Pan Eyta bowed quickly and retreated from the room. Lourna Dee, however, lingered near the platform.</p><p>“I understand needing to keep him in line Marchion,” Lourna sneered, with a quick backwards glance at the retreating Dowutin. “But how long is my Tempest supposed to wait around and do nothing?”</p><p>“Don’t do <em> nothing </em> Lourna. You’re free to do as you wish.”</p><p>“Provided we don’t move against the Republic you mean.”</p><p>“It’s a big galaxy,” Marchion shrugged. “Surely you cannot be so lacking in imagination that striking at Chancellor Soh and her precious Republic Space Station is the only way you can think to make yourself useful to the Nihil?”</p><p>Lourna Dee sputtered indignantly. </p><p>“Are you suggesting I’m of no use to you, Marchion?”</p><p>“I’m suggesting you see yourself out, and remember that you are not above the rules. I am the Eye. I decide when we move.”</p><p>“It wasn’t like this before,” she scoffed. “I think I preferred that.”</p><p>“You had an opportunity to make your displeasure known after the Jedi attacked and killed Kassav. But did you?”</p><p>Lourna said nothing and looked away. </p><p>“You agreed then to unite the Nihil under my rule, and I suggest you remind yourself of that fact. I am already in the process of selecting a new Tempest Runner, and it would not be overly taxing to select your replacement as well. <em> Dismissed. </em>”</p><p>Lourna Dee bowed curtly, replaced her painted mask, and filed out of the room. Pak, who waited by the door of the chamber, caught Marchion’s eye. Marchion flicked his hand in acknowledgement.</p><p>He stood as members of his Tempest filed into the room, glancing about nervously as though expecting to be slaughtered on the spot. Each of them radiated fear and confusion. </p><p><em> Good </em> , Marchion thought. <em> Let them be afraid </em>.</p><p>It wasn’t often he made his displeasure known. But on the odd occasion that he did, his anger was legendary. When Marchion Ro gave an order, he expected it to be obeyed. And he’d been kept waiting long enough. At the forefront of the small group stood Garran, the Mirialan leader of his Cyone away team, and his new candidate for Tempest Runner. </p><p>“Three days,” Marchion said, fixing his gaze on Garran. “It’s been three days.”</p><p>“She’s been in the medical bay for most of that, Marchion,” Garran began to say.</p><p>“When I instructed you to bring her alive, I don’t believe I included the word ‘barely’ in my orders.”</p><p>“All we did was knock her out. The rest of her injuries she sustained herself.”</p><p>Marchion’s dark eyes flashed dangerously. The rest of the group took a reflexive step back. Only Garran remained unmoving. </p><p>“Where is she now?” Marchion asked.</p><p>“She was released from the medical bay, and placed in the brig.”</p><p>Marchion stepped back and sat down once more, dismissing the group with a wave of his hand. </p><p>“Bring her to me.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Sola sat huddled on the floor of her cell, her body folded in on itself. Her heavy black dress had seemed stifling back on Cyone, but now felt too thin. She shivered and gathered her knees closer to her chest, tucking as much of her body as she could under her skirt. The dress had been given to her by Tala to wear in her period of mourning - because even though she held out hope that her son would return one day, it wouldn’t do for Sola not to mourn, just in case. It would be <em> unseemly </em> otherwise. </p><p>The ridiculous garment had once belonged to one of Tala’s daughters, who was shorter and slimmer than Sola was. The family seamstress had let the dress out and down as much as possible, but it still fit awkwardly. The skirt was just long enough to be a nuisance and yet just short enough to allow the chill of the brig to wash over Sola’s legs. The top was too tight around her bosom and arms, and restricted much of her ability to move or breathe. </p><p>Where most of this ship - from what she remembered - had been dimly lit, the brig was almost torturously bright, no doubt to prevent prisoners from sleeping or carrying out covert escape attempts in the darkness. The brightness also came with a second, perhaps unintended side effect. A throbbing pain had invaded Sola’s head for the last three days. Though she couldn’t see the back of her neck, the searing pain she felt when she lay down told her there must be a substantial bruise there. Her face and hands had been healed and stitched. Though her hands might not bear any marks of her encounter, she would carry the scar on her temple for the rest of her days.</p><p>However long that might be.</p><p>A sound echoed throughout the brig and she stood, smoothing her dress more out of habit than any genuine concern for her appearance. </p><p>“Nice to see you on your feet.”</p><p>She glanced up from her skirt and saw the Mirialan man standing there staring at her, the same one she’d encountered on Cyone. His green face and blue hair were newly painted with a set of jarring, jagged white lines he hadn’t had when she’d last seen him. She retreated to the back of the small cell wordlessly, trying to put as much distance as possible between the two of them.</p><p>“Don’t be like that,” the Mirialan said. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”</p><p>“Is that what you call this?” Sola asked, rubbing a hand on the back of her neck. </p><p>He flashed a smile at her and laughed softly.</p><p>“Orders are orders, I’m sure you understand. Sometimes we have to do things we might not otherwise want to. Right, Sola?”</p><p>He smiled again, a crooked, charming expression that had Sola’s knees weakening unconsciously. She needed to break whatever strange spell he was casting over her.</p><p>“You know my name,” she said, “but I don’t have yours.”</p><p>“Garran,” he said, extending a hand. She shook it quickly, then tried to let go. He held onto her hand a moment longer, running his fingers gently along her palm. She inhaled sharply and he let go, her arm falling to her side. </p><p>“He wants to see you,” Garran said, disengaging the door to the cell. Sola stepped out and Garran beckoned for her to follow. She lifted her skirts to keep from tripping and shuffled after him.</p><p>“He?”</p><p>“The Eye. Marchion Ro.”</p><p>This was not the first time she’d heard reference to the mysterious “Eye”. Garran and the others had mentioned him on Cyone, and she’d heard the name - or rather, title - whispered in the medical bay as she’d drifted in and out of consciousness. She gathered that he must be their leader, and now she had a name to accompany the title: Marchion Ro. </p><p>The ship was so colossal, if she hadn’t known better, hadn’t been able to see the blackness of space from the viewports, she might have thought they were in a palace or fortress somewhere on a freezing cold planet. Garran led her away from the bright lights of the brig, down a sparse corridor, past several windowless doors to a turbolift. They stood apart, awkwardly and in silence. </p><p>When the doors to the lift opened once again, they led to a hallway that was as different from the brig as she could imagine. It almost seemed constructed from another vessel entirely. It was warmer - but not much - and though the lights were not bright, they were almost warm and inviting. They suggested life and fire, rather than the cold sterility of the brig. The walls were painted, the same jagged designs that Garran wore on his face and on the mask he carried under his arm. </p><p>One design in particular caught her eye. Situated to the left of a large set of doors was a red circle with a large dot at it’s centre. Radiating out from the circle were a handful of crooked lines, zig-zagging out in 3 segments. She paused to contemplate it. </p><p>“Something caught your eye?” Garran asked, standing behind her so closely she could feel his warm breath brushing against her neck. Sola traced one of the lines darting out from the circle as she spoke.</p><p>“Everything else is painted in whites or blues. The odd other colour. Except this. This is the only red I see.”</p><p>“That’s the mark of the Eye. It symbolises the Nihil as a whole.”</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>Garran took Sola’s hand in his.</p><p>“The lines represent Tempests that make up the majority of the Nihil,” he said, guiding her to the tip of one of the lines. “The Strikes, the Clouds and the Storms.”</p><p>As he spoke, he dragged her finger along the three parts of the line until they’d reached the large circle. </p><p>“This,” he continued, tracing the circle with her, “represents the Tempest Runners. Though they operate as individuals, together they form a single, unbroken force.”</p><p>“And at the centre-”</p><p>“The Eye of the Storm. The one around which we all revolve.”</p><p>“Which one are you?”</p><p>Garran leaned in closer and placed her hand on the appropriate segment.</p><p>“You tell me.”</p><p>“A…Storm?”</p><p>“That’s right.”</p><p>Sola swallowed, trying to hide the way her hand shook. It had been so long since anyone took an interest in her, much less spoke to her in the seductive tone Garran used. It was pathetic, really. </p><p>“How long have you been a Storm?”</p><p>“A while,” Garran said vaguely.</p><p>“Can you...start your own Tempest?” she asked, turning around to face him. </p><p>A biter, ugly look flashed across his handsome face.</p><p>“Doesn’t work like that.” His eyes darted towards the nearby door so quickly that she might have missed it had she not been studying his expression.</p><p>“He’s ready for you,” a new, deeper voice interrupted, making her jump and pull her hand away from Garran’s. A besalisk stood before the large doors, which now slid open. </p><p>“Thanks Pak,” Garran said, laying an arm on Sola’s back to lead her into the chamber beyond. </p><p>“Just her, Garran,” Pak said. “Boss’s orders.”</p><p>She glanced back at Garran, and he smiled at her again, in his usual charming way. Too charming really. The blend of the flutter in her stomach and the bile in her throat at the sight of him made her uneasy.</p><p>“I hope I see you again, Sola,” he said. </p><p>She simply nodded quickly, the better to stop her voice from shaking. She slipped into the chamber, then flinched when the door immediately slid shut behind her. </p><p>From the oppressive light of the brig, her eyed had somewhat adjusted to the warmer light of the corridor. Now she felt all but plunged into darkness. She used the scant brightness of the holotable, and the bluish light above to guide herself forward towards what appeared to be a stage of some sort, housing a large chair. She walked slowly, letting her eyes adjust. Stopping in front of the stage she glanced up and gasped audibly. </p><p>A man sat in the chair - a throne really - and stared down at her. His clothing and boots were dark and simple, his sleeveless tunic revealing two steel-grey, muscled arms. He wore heavy, fur-lined cuffs around his wrists and a long fur cloak. Though he was seated, he appeared to be a tall man, taller than Sola herself. He wore a utility belt and a painted mask. The mask did not have any facial markings, but was instead adorned with lines leading from the edge to the centre, where the mark of the Eye was drawn in pride of place.</p><p>This, then, must be Marchion Ro.</p><p>“Sola San Tekka,” he said, his voice quieter than she would have expected from a man of his size. “At last.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“And these? What do you suppose these are?”</p>
<p>This would be the moment that decided matters. Mari had been uniquely gifted with her ability to see and locate the Paths, but in the decades since she’d been with the Nihil, the San Tekka’s had continued to expand their hyperspace dominion. Aurel hadn’t been able to make any sense of the dots when Marchion had shown him, but then again he’d lacked the intellectual capacity to understand. Perhaps this Core-bred beauty would fare better. It would be a shame for her to share her kinsman’s fate.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The first thing Marchion remarked as Sola San Tekka entered the room was that she was younger than he’d expected. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had assumed Aurel would point him to someone of Mari’s age, or close enough to it. He’d anticipated the need to medically care for her as he’d done for the now-deceased navigator. But his concerns were entirely unwarranted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead the woman who stood before him appeared to be about thirty years of age. Her olive complexion was so unlike Aurel’s. Marchion wondered how remarkable her skills must be, that in a family so large, and as distantly related as they seemed to be, hers had been the name to come to Aurel’s mind in his final moments.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The second thing he noticed was her appearance. Her dress was ill-fitted, clearly meant for another, It pulled in the wrong places and was too short, but nonetheless did little to conceal the  curves underneath. Curves he immediately wished he could become more intimately familiar with. Long dark hair framed her face,  tangled waves loosely held back by a scrap of fabric. Her face was spotted with fading bruises, and sported a dark scab on her lip and a healing scar on her temple. Yet despite the injuries, her eyes sparkled with a defiance and fearlessness that carried over into her proud posture. She stood before him, her head aloft and spine straight, as if she and not he held the authority in this room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sola San Tekka,” he said. “At last.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She said nothing for a moment, merely appraising him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Marchion Ro,” she replied at last. “I wish I could say it was a pleasure, but give the circumstances…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What circumstances are those?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She barely suppressed an incredulous laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The forceful removal of my person from my home comes to mind.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her confident demeanour almost managed to conceal the quiver in her voice as she spoke. Almost.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you frightened, Sola?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of the masked man who ordered me brought before him for reasons unknown? Not in the slightest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a lie, he knew. But he commended her for the telling of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In that case-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rose from the throne, and walked to the edge of the platform, towering over Sola. She craned her neck up gingerly, and took several reflexive steps back. He leapt down, landing directly before her. The sound of his heavy boots on the ground make her jump and gasp sharply. She dropped her gaze down to her filthy hem, the fight gone out of her at his sudden proximity.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Allow me to educate you,” he concluded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He brushed past her to the holotable and switched it on. The room was at once filled with a familiar glow as a map of the known galaxy materialized before his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fabric rustled softly behind him, brushing in time with the faint clicking of boots on the floor. He peered up and saw Sola come to a stop on the other side of the table, the projection threading her dark hair with strands of green. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He entered another command, and suddenly the map was shot through with bright white lines connecting far distant reaches to one another.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you recognize these?” he asked her, curiously. Sola arched her uninjured brow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re the hyperspace lanes,” she replied, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. Which to a San Tekka, he supposed it must be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Most of which were charted by your family.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A curious look crossed her face, as though she wanted to protest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The San Tekka’s have devoted their lives to prospecting the hyperspace routes, to joining the core with the undiscovered frontier of the galaxy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She spoke in a flat tone, like a child reciting a lesson. There was no conviction in her voice, though her face betrayed none of her hesitation. Instead, she simply gazed through the map, directly at Marchion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Undiscovered, you say? But the Nihil did not come here with settlers from the Republic.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a big galaxy.” Sola scoffed. “I’m not so naïve as to believe the only way out here is through the Republic’s hyperspace lanes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yet you do believe all inhabitants of the Outer Rim must have arrived here from the Core, as you did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How did you know I was from the Core?” she asked, sounding genuinely surprised. Marchion smiled behind his mask.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I meant your family. The San Tekka’s.  Every emissary of the Republic that inhabits our space. But now that you mention it, your accent does carry traces of the Core as well. Corellia?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Coruscant.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was unaware your family had ties on Coruscant. My mistake.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another strange look, the same as before, materialized for the briefest moment, only to vanish just as quickly. He entered another command, and a series of red dots flooded the screen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And these? What do you suppose these are?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This would be the moment that decided matters. Mari had been uniquely gifted with her ability to see and locate the Paths, but in the decades since she’d been with the Nihil, the San Tekka’s had continued to expand their hyperspace dominion. Aurel hadn’t been able to make any sense of the dots when Marchion had shown him, but then again he’d lacked the intellectual capacity to understand. Perhaps this Core-bred beauty would fare better. It would be a shame for her to share her kinsman’s fate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola circled the table slowly. She studied the dots carefully, utterly entranced. Marchion could see her eyes darting rapidly from place to place. Her plush lips moved slightly as she whispered to herself. Her fingers twitched, tracing absently. She came to a stop next to Marchion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola flinched, Marchion’s voice snapping her out of her reverie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They…they look like they run parallel to the lanes. Perpendicular, too. There’s a pattern here, a puzzle.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Entrance and exit points...” Marchion indicated, letting his words hang for her to pick up. She followed the line traced by his fingers and gasped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cutting </span>
  <em>
    <span>across</span>
  </em>
  <span> hyperspace…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Marchion said. “You’ll do nicely.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps a different approach will help us…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He trailed off, lost in his own thoughts. If the Paths she navigated for them ran differently from Mari’s, if the Republic had managed to figure out their patterns, all their gathered data so far would be for nothing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is it you want with me?” Sola said, at once sounding curious and deeply frustrated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s quite simple, Sola,” he said, not looking at her. “You will be our new navigator.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That couldn’t have been right.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Had the leader of the Nihil, the most feared Force in the Outer Rim ordered her brought here because he wanted to offer her a </span>
  <em>
    <span>job</span>
  </em>
  <span>? As a </span>
  <em>
    <span>navigator?</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She had danced on the edge of danger from the moment she had been forced into the throne room. Sola chose to mask her fear with defiance and bravado, responding with quips and sarcasm rather than the cowering fear she felt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man before her was intimidating. He towered over her, even though she was not a petite woman herself. There was a quiet menace to his voice at all times, even when he spoke to her with civility. He’d made no move to threaten or even touch her. He wasn’t brash and loud, as she’d expected the Nihil to be by reputation. This was a man who hadn’t harmed her, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and she quickly realized that must be the power he held over them all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All mental defences she’d thrown up dropped the moment he placed the map of the galaxy before her and asked what she saw. Her mind had been so under-stimulated on Cyone, it took her a few moments to realize that she’d been handed a logic puzzle to solve. It had been so long since she’d had such an opportunity. Her courses at the University seemed a lifetime ago. But here she was, back in her old habits, her mind so overcome with the problem at hand that she ceased to notice anything else around her. There was a pattern here, she knew it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was just beginning to wish she had a kitchen at her disposal, to perform labour with her hands and allow her mind to try and figure out the intricacies of the red dots as they pertained to the map, when a quiet, powerful voice brought her back to reality. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola’s trance had carried her around the table until she stood directly beside Marchion, and it was here that he peered down at her and asked for her conclusions. Her defences were still lowered, while he contemplated her response. She took in his powerful physique, the precise sculpted muscles of his arms, the way his voice had softened and even found herself wondering what he looking like under the mask.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It hadn’t just been her mind that was under-stimulated on Cyone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ember of arousal that had sparked within her was quickly dampened when he requested - or rather ordered - her to be his navigator.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, what?” she asked, dropping the witty edge she tried to maintain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What part of this was unclear?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your navigator? Why me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The ability to see routes in hyperspace that are unknown to others is unique in your family,” Marchion said simply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There he went again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Her family</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He clearly meant the San Tekka’s. But what would he do once he realized she was a relative by marriage only? Whatever skills the family claimed to possess did not come naturally to her. Whatever knowledge they had accrued had been denied her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why me?” she asked again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You came highly recommended.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“By </span>
  <em>
    <span>who?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“By the last navigator I attempted to engage,” Marchion said, his voice regaining it’s menacing edge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And if I refuse?” she said, attempting to build her defences back up and regain her authoritative foothold.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I trust you know the reputation of the Nihil. That we do not take prisoners and do not grant quarter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you realize you’ve been brought here and provided with information few others possess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She followed his comments to their logical conclusion, and sighed heavily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I assume I’d meet the same fate as your last navigator.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Indeed. Though it would be a shame, you’re far cleverer than he was.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not much of a choice,” she said bitterly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yet it’s more than most get from me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The darkness of the room, and his proximity became overwhelming. Neither of them had moved, and were still standing very close to one another.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Might I…might I have some time to consider?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was another risk, she knew it. But if she was being asked to sign her life away, she didn’t want the decision wrenched from her, even if she would ultimately make the more pragmatic, life-saving choice either way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My patience wears thin, Sola-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed, and she braced herself. It was so much worse when she couldn’t see his face or read his reactions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have fifteen minutes. I expect you to deliver your answer directly to me before that time, whatever the answer may be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola nodded quickly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pak will know where to find me,” he said, switching off the holotable and sweeping out of the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door closed behind him. Without the beam of light from the corridor or the glow of the map, Sola was plunged in darkness once again. The stillness and silence of the space washed over her, pressing in on her from all sides. A bubble of fear rose in her chest and burst from her mouth in a semi-hysterical laugh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get a hold of yourself,” she whispered through gritted teeth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She needed to think. Immediate refusal would get her killed. That, then, was out of the question. But a lifetime spent in service to the Nihil was too daunting to consider. She had decades ahead of her still. Decades of potential that were slowly disappearing into nothingness. She saw only the Nihil before her now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But of course, life was unpredictable. After all, just a few short days ago, her biggest act of defiance had been receiving her mother-in-law in her kitchen rather than her sitting room. And here she was today, facing down the Eye of the Nihil. Who was to say this was forever? Anything could change.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was little point in continuing to delay the inevitable. She strode out of the throne room, and requested that Pak take her to Marchion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something about all this felt a little too familiar. Granted, no one had threatened to kill her when she’d been married to Aurel, but otherwise the two incidents were noticeable in their similarity. In both circumstances, she’d been given the illusion of choice, even though the decision had all but been made for her. Likewise, then as now, she’d been sought out to fill a specific role and fulfil someone else’s need.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Another way this is different</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thought wryly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He wants me here for my skill</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola would not enter this carelessly, as she had her marriage. She was older, and far wiser. If she was to serve on this vessel, at least for now, she would make sure it worked to her benefit as well. She might need Marchion Ro’s mercy to stay alive, but he needed her too, and she could use that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pak led her through thick, reinforced blast doors to the cockpit of the ship. The viewport was massive, covering the entire front wall. There were two seats, and - very curiously - a large pod-shaped device in pride of place where the pilot’s seat ought to be. Marchion stood beside the pod, one of his arms resting over the top of it. He made no move to greet her as she entered, nor did he speak. She stood by the door uncertainly, waiting to be addressed. When no comment came, she decided to alert him to her presence. It wouldn’t do for him to be startled, not when one of his hands rested on the blaster at his hip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Marchion Ro?” Sola said, tentatively.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion whirled around and Sola gasped audibly. He’d removed his mask, revealing his face to her at last. Sleek dark hair rested on his shoulders. His face was angular, all hard lines and edges save for soft, full lips. Most notable however, was the source of Sola’s gasp. His large eyes bore none of the colour or distinctions of other species. They were completely black and soulless, utterly without facet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve come to a decision then?” Marchion said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have,” Sola said, her voice returning to her. This would be another risk, but one worth taking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I accept. But I have conditions.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Aaah what's a little romance without thinly-veiled threats and a whole bunch of bargaining</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“I remind you that it is in your best interest not to tangle with me. I may need you for a task, but you need me to stay alive.”</p><p>Sola scoffed.</p><p>“As I doubt I’ll ever be allowed to leave, my life is over either way. But killing me doesn’t solve your problem.” She paused to let the weight of her words sink in. “Does it?”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Conditions?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marchion Ro looked surprised, and Sola took it as a good sign that he hadn’t immediately flown into a rage at her audacity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. And while I am willing to negotiate on some, there are others I must insist on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are in no position to dictate conditions to me,” he hissed. He crossed the space in two long strides until she was forced to tilt her head up once more to meet his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t I?” she asked, fighting to keep her voice level. “You require a navigator, I seem to have more knowledge on the subject than your last one did. It’s in your best interest to keep me satisfied, would you not agree?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remind you that it is in </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> best interest not to tangle with me. I may need you for a task, but you need me to stay alive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sola scoffed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As I doubt I’ll ever be allowed to leave, my life is over either way. But killing me doesn’t solve your problem.” She paused to let the weight of her words sink in. “Does it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A muscle in his square jaw twitched. They held each other's gaze, neither daring to move, or speak. She became lost in the endless blackness of his eyes, searching them for some trace of warmth or humanity that she might be able to draw on. Yet there was nothing of the kind that she could see. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that that prevented her heart from beating all the quicker at his proximity. She could touch him if she wanted to. He lingered, unmoving and silent, in her space for so long that a small corner of her brain had begun to fantasize - the feel of his hands digging into her flesh, his lips against her own, or otherwise exploring her more intimately, being boxed in by his arms, the weight of his body on hers, igniting within her sensations and pleasure she had never had from another. The same ember in her stomach sparked again, both aroused and afraid of the things he made her feel. Things she hadn’t felt for Aurel in a long time, no matter how much she’d told herself otherwise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At last he blinked and broke the hold he had on her. He turned away and returned to his contemplation of the endless space outside the window. She raised her cold hands to her face in an effort to hide and dispel the flush that had crept into her cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” he said. “Name your conditions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sola gaped at his back. She couldn’t believe he had agreed to hear her out. If only Aurel had been so easy to negotiate with during their engagement. But of course, she’d been a different person then too. Never insisting on anything, so eager to make things painless for everyone else, even when it had come at the expense of her own wants or  happiness. Yet she’d emerged from a decade of being disregarded, no longer willing to be overlooked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Firstly, I refuse to be kept like a prisoner. On this point, I will not negotiate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t just let you do whatever you want on my ship,” he said without turning around. “Everyone on the crew has a job to do, that includes you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said that I wouldn’t be treated like a prisoner, not that I expected to be treated like a queen. That means I will not be kept in the brig.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Marchion said nothing, she continued. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would like private quarters, with a shower.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Marchion said at once. “You may not be a prisoner, but you’re not Nihil either. If you’re not staying in the brig, then you’ll stay with a female Storm I trust.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So she can spy on me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trust is earned, Sola, not given freely. Especially here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the shower? I trust there’s one in her quarters?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I assume so, yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Sola said, conceding. She might have been able to argue further, but she wanted him in a good mood for her final condition. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything else?” he asked, still not looking back at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She balled up her fists and screwed up her eyes in preparation. Her first request had seemed most likely. The second was a natural extension of it. But this. This might take some finessing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One more thing. A data pad and access to the ship’s network.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marchion whirled around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t negotiate on this either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think I’m going to hand you a way to contact the Republic? To tell them where we are and what we do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sola was offended that he though her so idiotic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think that I would try to twist our negotiations and try to undermine the whole thing in so blatant a way?” she asked. “Do you think so little of me?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hardly know you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That may be. But you do need to trust me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His jaw twitched again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want the data pad for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mainly to study the previous Paths navigated by my…by my kinsmen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To what end? Can’t you navigate them yourself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he thought she possessed some kind of rare ability, something unique to the San Tekka’s, she would not disabuse him of that idea. But she needed to figure out the pattern she’d been shown in the throne room. She would be closely watched. The ability to simulate instinctual navigation skills was paramount. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As you said, my skills are not the same as your former navigator’s. I believe in studying the Paths already travelled, I may find a way to make travel more efficient.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a lie, she believed nothing of the sort. But she threw just enough confidence into her voice that she hoped it sounded convincing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. I’ll have Pak take you to your quarters, then return you here when your data pad is ready, and you can begin at once.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hardly need to be shepherded from place to place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t,” he agreed. “But it’s a big ship, it’s easy to get lost and most of the crew have no idea who you are, only that you are not one of us. Is that a risk you’re willing to take?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had a point. She acknowledged his words with a simple nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So we’re agreed, Marchion Ro?” she asked, fighting once again to gain the advantage. She extended her hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re agreed, Sola.” He clasped her outstretched hand in his larger, gloved one. The leather was softer than she would have expected, his grip far gentler.  They lingered there for a moment, until she slipped away and let her arm drop. Her face was in very real danger of flushing again, and there was no way he would miss it this time. The whole thing was ridiculous anyway. The exhaustion of the day and Garran’s earlier kindness were confusing her, even if she didn’t entirely trust the Mirialan. Or Marchion Ro for that matter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She made for the door to summon Pak, when Marchion called out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sola.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She paused and turned back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t go for formality much here,” he continued. “My Tempests call me ‘Marchion’. You may do the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine…Marchion.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This woman would drive him mad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He desired her, that much was obvious. He’d increased their proximity out of a desire to intimidate, yes, but also simply to be a little closer to her. If he hadn’t seen fear cleverly disguised as determination written plainly on her face, he might have taken her right then and there. He was getting hard just thinking about it, about the sounds she would make as he brought her to the peak again and again and made her his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she didn’t want him. There were many among the Nihil, some aboard the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gaze Electric</span>
  </em>
  <span> even who would gladly have his attentions. He would not force them on someone so plainly uninterested.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet there were other considerations, beyond the physical pull he felt. There was her bravery, first and foremost. Though his Tempest Runners never had trouble speaking their minds, some of the lesser Clouds and Strikes still cowered under his gaze. She’d looked him in the eye and unflinchingly demanded her due in the face of circumstances that might have broken another. Circumstances that </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> broken Aurel. He’d merely demanded that he be let go, accompanied by some vague threats associated with his family’s status. It had never once occurred to the man to negotiate by asking for improvements to his situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it had occurred to Sola. She’d known he was in no position to refuse, and she’d been right. He needed her far more than she needed him. He was impressed that she’d seen it, and called him on it twice. Especially when Sola had no reason to expect him to be reasonable. All she knew about the Nihil were whatever stories they told on Cyone, or on Coruscant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If she’d been Nihil, Marchion already knew he would make her his newest Tempest Runner. She struck a good balance between Pan Eyta who deferred to others too readily, and Lourna Dee who respected no one but herself. Sola’s respect was conditional. Only given if it would be returned in kind. And he was only too willing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her requested data pad had been delivered to the cockpit, and now it was only a matter of waiting for her to return. The Cloud whose quarters she’d been assigned to share, a Rodian named Oora, was not currently aboard the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gaze Electric.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He would need to have a word with her on her return. She would be promoted to Storm, given Clouds and Strikes of her own to command. But in exchange, she would need to keep an eye on Sola and report back to Marchion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sliding of the door behind him announced that he was no longer alone. Sola was back. He was already becoming used to the way she moved, in quick steps muffled by the shifting fabric of her skirts. She came to a stop on the other side of the pod where he was resting his elbow and joined him in the contemplation of the void beyond the window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He contemplated her out of the corner of his eye. Her dark hair had been gathered back into a loose-yet-efficient braid, and though she’d clearly made some effort to clean it up, the dress she wore would never regain the tidy quality it no doubt had before her arrival.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That dress isn’t cumbersome?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t have a chance to pack anything else before I left,” she said lightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Besides,” she said, tugging her sleeves down her arms to little avail, “I’m too cold to wear the expected uniform.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cast her eyes over his bare arms with a look he might have called appreciative if he hadn’t known better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your data pad,” he said instead of addressing her comment. He handed the desired device over to her, and she snatched it from his hands hungrily, as though he’d given her a cup of water in the desert. Her fingers flew across the device, and she hardly seemed to notice he was still standing there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Study the former Paths later, Sola. I want to show you how this all works.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She reluctantly dragged her eyes away from the device and set it on one of the empty seats. She set one foot inside the pod, examining it as she did, before retreating quickly and looking at Marchion with a quizzical expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is a medical pod. Not a navigational one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Paths are unpredictable, the toll they take can’t be understated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d witnessed it for himself, the strange way navigation had both prolonged Mari’s life and wreaked havoc on her mind and body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Surely this is excessive?” Sola asked incredulously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It serves multiple purposes. I’m afraid I’ll have to insist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m perfectly healthy,” Sola protested. “I didn’t agree to subject myself to needless medical intervention just because-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sola.” Marchion bit out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He was angry but had not raised his voice. He hardly ever did. Still, the effect was instantaneous. She fell quiet and looked at her feet for a moment, composing herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no problems with a subordinate who speaks their mind, but I am not to be ignored. My orders are the law and I expect them to be obeyed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or what?” she said, shooting him a challenging look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was she serious? She must be, the way obstinance blazed in her eyes and her posture had taken on a defensive stance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or you’re going to find out exactly what happens to people who displease me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What could you possibly do that you haven’t already done? You’ve already taken everything from me. And we both know you won’t kill me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The punishment I employ for my navigators is a little more…physical in nature.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Physical,” she repeated with an inscrutable expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Painful, even. If you’re conscious enough to feel it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sola said nothing for a moment, that same mysterious look dancing across her face, as though she was contemplating something against her better judgement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever it is you had in mind. Do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sola, you don’t know-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I know my own mind,” she said, furious suddenly. “Don’t threaten me if you have no intention of seeing it through.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marchion hissed angrily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get in the pod.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t change the subject.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sola,” he began warningly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Coward.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lunged forward and seized her by the arms, lifting her off the floor enough to deposit her into the medical pod. She flailed in his grip, but he held firm. He began by restraining her waist, which would leave his hands free to fully connect her to the rest of the system.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what I think?” Sola scoffed, straining to look down at him. “I think you were bluffing. I don’t think you have the faintest idea </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> to punish your navigator without killing them so all you use are vague threats.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hands restrained by seldom-used cuffs, and her ankles held in place, small metallic plated pressing against key points on her skin, Marchion rose slowly from his crouch and leaned in closer. He placed his hands on her breastbone, winding his fingers under the neckline of her dress and pulled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She inhaled sharply as the restrictive fabric tore away, leaving her with more room to breathe. He fixed the final plate against her collar, trying to ignore the way her chest rose and fell without being bound by her hideous dress. He could just make out the delicate fabric of her breastband and ached to tear her dress open further, faintly thinking of several other things he’d rather be doing with her in this state. Her heart was racing so hard he could feel it under his fingertips, reverberating throughout her body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned in closely, his face mere inches from her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Last chance, Sola.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just do it,” she whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Under normal circumstances, the cover was closed to grant access to the controls, but Marchion left it open. He retreated only slightly and braced himself on the edge of the pod with one hand, sliding the other around to the button at the top. His eyes remained locked on her face, scanning for any sign of apprehension. She showed none. He pressed the button.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A jolt of electricity shot through her body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes squeezed shut as her body convulsed. He let the charge run through her for only a few moments before releasing his hold on the button. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d implemented this function with Mari to rouse her from the trances navigation sometimes put her in, but over time found it to be an effective deterrent when she asked too many questions, or as punishment when she wouldn’t yield desired results. It had served the second function with Aurel as well, and now it would for Sola as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He released two more short bursts of electricity in quick succession, each producing the same effect on Sola’s body. By the time he released the button for the final time, she was breathing hard, and a tear stained the corner of her eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He released the clasps from around her limbs slowly. He was grateful he’d been standing when he opened the one about her waist, as she immediately slumped forward. He caught her, and raised her up so her face was nearly level with his. Her eyelids sat heavily over dazed brown eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I trust I’ve made myself clear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hummed in agreement, sliding her hands up to grip his shoulders. Her face was painfully close to his. She tilted forward, half-closed eyes still unfocused. Marchion was briefly afraid he’d overdone it, that these few jolts had rendered her senseless, until her fingertips brushed gently along his jawbone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marchion adjusted his grip on her, wrapping his arms more securely around her waist. He pressed her half-bare chest against his clothed one, feeling the heat of her body and the rhythm of her heart through his tunic. She leaned her head forward into the crook of his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for showing me,” she mumbled into his shoulder. She was breathing a little easier by the time he set her on one of the empty seats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pak’s voice crackled in through the intercom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Marchion. Irami and Oora are back!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Duty called, and Marchion was happy to respond, if only to distract himself. This woman would truly drive him mad.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Boy, that escalated quickly</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>There was no time to waste. He had waited long enough. They had been thrown off by that...incident with Mari’s pod the day before, but no more. His new navigator would prove herself today.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The door of Marchion’s ready room flew open, admitting him to the dark, hollow space. His purposeful stride, which had carried him through the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gaze Electric</span>
  </em>
  <span> at intimidating speed, remained unbroken. As he crossed the threshold, passed the waiting Nihil, and ascended the platform, his long cloak billowed behind him. He swept it to the side as he sat in the throne, turning his masked face to the waiting crowd. He had other masks he preferred to wear in scenarios like this, but there had been no time to fetch it, so he would have to make do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had the desired effect however. The Clouds and Strikes were intimidated. He didn’t need special abilities to sense it. He could see it in their eyes. It radiated off of them in waves, filling his room with the cloying scent of fear. It was suffocating. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Send them away,” he said, training his gaze on the two Nihil who waited close to the dais, their own recently-earned masks under their arms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Back to the ship,” the Duros, Irami, ordered. As one, the Clouds and Strikes turned and filed out of the throne room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They look new,” Marchion observed once the door had closed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They are,” replied Oora, a Rodian who was Irami’s partner in every way that counted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You thought it was a good idea to take them on such an important run?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They have to go sometime, Marchion,” Irami said. “Besides, they’re still scared enough of you that we can threaten them into silence.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you suggesting the other Clouds and Strikes don’t fear me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Oora supplied. “Only that the old hands know you won’t throw them out of the Great Hall into the void en mass. And we might have suggested to the newbies that this is something you do often.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The corners of Marchion’s mouth twitched behind his mask. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He liked this pair. He liked having them close by, their partnership made them invaluable assets to him. Where one had a deficiency or a gap in her knowledge, the other made up for it. Oora and Irami were a solid unit, and were rare among the Nihil in that they could generally get an accurate read on his thoughts, and anticipate some of his strategy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were also among the few who had the privilege of residing aboard the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gaze Electric</span>
  </em>
  <span> rather than aboard the smaller vehicles that made up the Nihil fleet. The others who called his flagship home made up Marchion’s personal Tempest of sorts - Storms he was considering for promotion, or the odd seasoned Cloud or Strike who could carry out small tasks, plus a medic and a cook. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And now his new navigator. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He brought his mind back to the present, pulling it away from the woman he’d left huddled in the cockpit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What news do you have for me?” he asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Jedi continue to occupy and invade Nihil space,” Irami scoffed. “Their glittering new ‘space station’ was dedicated not too long ago. We can expect more ships, more colonists-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“More opportunities,” Oora cut in gently. “Think of the prizes, Marchion.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Where Irami was the hothead, and action-oriented, Oora was the strategist, always planning ahead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The colonists that are already here, they came with nothing,” Marchion agreed. “But the ones who will follow? Now that they believe it safe from the Emergences? That split will go much further.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He acknowledged their report and made to dismiss them, before remembering the final thing to discuss. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oora,” he called. “I’m promoting you. Effective immediately, you may call yourself a Storm”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you Marchion,” the Rodian said, her wide starry eyes brightening. Irami reached forward and squeezed her lover’s hand, the only affection either would dare exhibit in front of the Eye.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not without condition,” Marchion added. “There is a new woman on board. She is here to assist me with certain…objectives. She will be staying in your quarters.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You sure you wouldn’t rather she stay in yours?” Irami teased. Oora elbowed her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> why I’ve had her brought here,” Marchion said, his voice cold. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If it’s a space issue, why not give her my quarters? I can move into Irami’s,” Oora suggested with a certain degree of enthusiasm. Their relationship was still new enough that they kept their separate quarters, though if their usual behaviour in the Great Hall was any indication, it was a formality at best. A formality that today worked to his advantage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Marchion said, shaking his head. “You are to keep an eye on her for me, but do not ask her purpose in being here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What am I watching for?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Attempts to flee, contact the Republic, that sort of thing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Karabast</span>
  </em>
  <span> Marchion, what kind of person is she?” Irami exclaimed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s in the cockpit,” he added as though the Duros hadn’t spoken. “Fetch her there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you brought a spy on board?” Oora asked, half curiosity, half disbelief.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dismissed,” he bit out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two Storms nodded and marched out of the throne room. He sat in the silence, contemplating. The Jedi were still here. His so-called Great Disaster had yet to frighten them away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Excellent</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When he’d first deposited her into the empty seat, Sola had clung to the front of her ruined dress in a halfhearted attempt to ward off the chill. But she had long since abandoned the attempt. In any case, she suspected the shivers that sporadically shook her body had little to do with the temperature.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What </span>
  </em>
  <span>was</span>
  <em>
    <span> that? </span>
  </em>
  <span>She wondered to herself, staring out of the viewport without really seeing. He’d claimed that pod was for medical purposes, but surely that had been a lie. Or at the very least, not the entire truth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion Ro was no Aurel, that much was clear. He was tall and broad where Aurel had been neither, menacing where Aurel was passive-aggressive, and candid and somewhat forthcoming where her husband had preferred deceit and dishonesty. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was also confident Aurel had never killed anyone. She could not say the same with any certainty about Marchion Ro.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He scared her. What the machine had done to her scared her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But a small, deep-down part of her had been thrilled by what had just happened. Liked it, even. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And that scared her most of all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d challenged him to show her the worst he could do, only half expecting him to take her up on it. She’d thought he might simply refuse her and go about explaining the machine, and she hadn’t planned on goading him any further. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then he’d suggested she didn’t know what she was saying. And that set her off, any attempts at repressing her childhood temper going completely to waste. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How many times had Aurel dismissed her in a similar way? It mattered little whether the issue at hand was their household management, her desires to remedy their infrequent, unsatisfying sex life, or even something as personal as her own happiness. His default answer had been to brush her off and tell her she didn’t know what she was talking about. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When she’d been younger, and newly wed, such arguments were infrequent but always led to Aurel sleeping in a guest bedroom. After a while, the arrangement became a permanent one, and he found himself more often than not spending the night there in another woman’s company. Those trysts he initially tried to keep a secret, but even that formality had faded after a while.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The only attention he paid to her after that were his half-hearted attempts at procreation, usually done at the behest and insistence of his mother. In those moments again, she would attempt to make the whole experience more enjoyable. Though he no longer desired her, she couldn’t say she felt the same at first. But he would shoot down her suggestions and attempts again and again. She could still hear the mocking “you don’t know what you’re saying, Sola” that he would sneer before rushing off to the waiting arms of the mistress of the week. She’d long since stopped trying. He hadn’t touched her at all in the last two years of their marriage, and she’d found she no longer wanted him to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She thought she’d long since moved past it. But hearing Marchion start in on the same refrain, that she - for all her skill and intelligence  - did not know her own mind, ignited an anger in her. She goaded him, she dared him to do his worst, and he’d called her bluff. He’d done as she asked, so she supposed in that way too, he was very different from Aurel. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door to the cockpit slid open and Sola jumped to her feet. She belatedly remembered to hold together the torn front of her dress, though she supposed if it were just Marchion returning then it would be nothing he hadn’t already seen. That thought brought an unbidden, undesired flush to her face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t Marchion, as it turned out. Instead a Rodian and a Duros hovered by the door, studying her. The former looked nervous, but the latter appeared almost curious, her bright red eyes narrowed in amusement. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you the Eye’s…” the Rodian began hesitantly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-guest?” the Duros finished, the suggestive tone in her voice not missed by anyone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. That is, I’m not a guest. But yes, I’m…Sola. I’m Sola.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sola,” the Rodian repeated. “I’m Oora. This is Irami. You’re going to be staying with me, I’m here to escort you. The Eye’s orders.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. I didn’t need an escort, I’ve been to your quarters already.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How long have you been here?” Oora asked, her starry eyes now matching the expression in Irami’s. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They said it was three days? But I don’t remember much before today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She dropped her hands away from her bodice, unconsciously smoothing her skirt in the nervous gesture she usually employed when Tala would scrutinize her as these two were doing, before inevitably finding her wanting in some way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rather than criticism, however, Sola heard a sharp intake of breath from the two beings who still hovered by the door. Bewildered, she glanced down, and belatedly realized that she’d let the front of her dress fall open. Based on the way the two of them dressed - tight fits and liberally displayed skin - not to mention the tunic Marchion wore, it was clear the Nihil did not share some of the Outer Rim’s more prudish tendencies. But there was no mistaking the tear in Sola’s dress as an intentional design element. She quickly raised her hands again and held the top of her dress closed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” Irami asked her, all innuendo gone from her voice, replaced with a steely concern. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Sola said quickly, evading their glances. “I could use a means to repair this though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We can do better than that, I think.” Irami said, exchanging a glance with Oora. The two of them reached out and beckoned Sola over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The small group remained silent as they slipped down the corridor. Oora and Irami led the way, occasionally glancing at each other, and surreptitiously back at Sola when they thought she couldn’t see, though neither said a word. When at last they arrived at Oora’s quarters - and Sola’s as well, it seemed - they motioned for her to proceed into the room first.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t wait to see if they followed, but simply dropped herself onto one of the bunks and stared at the floor. The room had seemed large enough when she’d been brought here before, but now that three of them occupied it, it felt cramped. Oora settled on the bunk across from Sola, and Irami leaned against the table near the door. The room was uncomfortably silent for several long moments. The two Nihil exchanged another confused look. It was clear neither was sure how to proceed, and frankly Sola was in no mood to facilitate her captivity any further.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m so tired,” she muttered, more to give voice to her crushing exhaustion than to communicate with the others. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please tell your leader that I am going to rest, after which I will be at his disposal.” Sola said as politely as she could, swinging her legs up and onto the bunk. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Waves of recognition washed over her. Recognition that she was trapped, that the only family she had were dead at the hands of those who kept her captive. She firmly shut her eyes and turned her back to the other two occupants of the room, hoping desperately that they hadn’t seen the frightened tears begin to leak out of her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion’s quarters were, naturally, the largest aboard the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gaze Electric</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Though they could be accessed via corridor like any other room on the ship, his father had also installed a tunnel leading directly from the throne room to the antechamber. Whether the move had been born of paranoia or simply because he could, Marchion wasn’t sure. But he appreciated it’s convenience for a quick getaway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The antechamber led into an office, beyond which were his sleeping quarters. The entire space was uniform in its design, the same dark colouring as the throne room. Here however, he allowed himself decorative indulgences he would not display publicly: The furniture was functional, yet with a greater care given to aesthetic - all dark steel and wood. The paneling on the wall was designed to resemble wood as well, though in actuality was more durable. His bed, of similar design to the rest of his furnishings, was covered with pelts of Loth-wolves he’d slain himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The back wall of his office and his sleeping quarters each had fairly large viewports affording a view of the vast expanse outside. Occasionally, when Mari had been navigating, the psychedelic colours of the Paths would light up the space around him. But the three weeks since Mari’s passing  had left the space around the ship frustratingly dark and static. Some halting progress had been made with Aurel but it wasn’t enough. Not for him to keep his Tempest Runners happy, and certainly not enough to follow through on his own plans for those who dared to invade this corner of space, </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> space, and make it their own. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion stood in his office in front of the large functional desk. The safe on the wall behind him lay open and nearly empty. In his hand, he held a long stone cylinder covered in grotesque carvings. The sickening purple glow it emitted was the only light in the otherwise dark room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I need more information</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought as he considered the artifact in his hand. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I need a Jedi</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Marchion,” Pak called over the comm. “She’s back, she’s ready for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At once, Marchion replaced the cylinder in the safe, setting it next to the gold ring he’d taken from Aurel San Tekka, then locked the small door. There was no time to waste. He had waited long enough. They had been thrown off by that...incident with Mari’s pod the day before, but no more. His new navigator would prove herself </span>
  <em>
    <span>today.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he arrived in the cockpit, he was greeted by the sight of Sola standing beside the pod, waiting for him. She shifted as he entered, and stood a little straighter, but kept her gaze firmly on the viewport. Gone was the brief moment of vulnerability he’d seen in her eyes when he pulled her out of the pod. Her walls had been thrown back up, and the fight - but not the defiance - had gone out of her, at least for now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was still nervous though. Her hands fiddled with the hem of her jacket as she waited for him to speak. It was then he realized why she looked different to him. Though her hair remained in the same loose braid, she’d changed out of her long, impractical dress. The one he’d only been too happy to tear open. Instead she wore simple black leggings tucked into boots that looked far too elegant and formal to belong to anyone on board the ship, so then likely the ones she’d been wearing all along. The gray tunic and long, soft black jacket she wore were too big for her, confirming Marchion’s suspicions that the clothing must have been borrowed. He also noted with some dismay that the loose clothing also obscured her curves from his sight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Perhaps that’s for the best</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he scolded himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How kind of you to return to work,” Marchion said dryly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, now that I’ve seen what happens to those who do not do as you ask…” she trailed off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I trust there will be no more objections to my orders?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola seemed to hesitate before replying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. No objections.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good. Then let’s begin by going over how the device works.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He held open the pod and bid her step inside. She complied and settled herself back, and he once again fastened her in, but left her arms unrestrained. The tunic dipped in front, stopping just above her breasts, leaving the rest of the skin exposed. As he settled the cold metal collarbone plate against her chest once more, he noticed a long black leather cord hanging about her neck. From the end of it dangled a simple golden band he hadn’t noticed earlier. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Some cultures exchange rings when they marry,” Sola said with an edge in her voice, catching him staring at the ring, which was nestled against her bosom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re married?” he asked, lifting the simple gold band with one of his fingers. “Do I need to worry about your husband coming to fetch you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Widowed,” she replied, not offering any further information. He let the band drop against her chest once more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Has it been long?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Weeks. He was killed in a skirmish.” She met his eyes at last and added, “with the Nihil.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her voice was flat, almost indifferent, though Marchion wagered that she was likely trying to hide her grief from him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A wonder then, that you chose to still help us,” he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola threw him a look of absolute incredulity that might have withered a lesser man.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like I said, it wasn’t much of a choice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As it was, Marchion was struck by how her expression had affected him, and made him realize the ridiculousness of his own words. She quickly schooled her expression once more into neutral indifference, but not before he felt anger overtake him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you did, in fact, have one,” Marchion bit out. “I doubt he did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is this meant to be helpful? To help me reconcile with the reality that is my life now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola’s voice shook. He was glad that she seemed to be remembering her place until he saw her eyes blaze once more. She wasn’t afraid, she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>angry</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It might not be helping, but I do suggest you get used to the idea. Your survival depends entirely on how useful you can be, and you would do well to remember that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola held his gaze, her dark brows furrowed, her eyes still blazing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Threats? Again?” Her eyes darted back towards where the voltage button lay. Marchion said nothing, just watching her instead, as she watched him.  Their encounter the night before clearly lay fresh in her memory, as vividly as it lay in his. She was testing him again, pushing him. He’d allowed himself to be goaded then, but he would not indulge her power bid now. He held fast to the edge of the pod and continued to watch her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wondered how much of the incident she remembered. Did she only remember the pain of the jolts he sent through her body? Had she even felt pain? After all, she hadn’t cried out. But she’d been so disoriented afterwards. Did she recall burying her face in his shoulder, too weak to hold up her head? What of the gentle caress she’d given his face, the ghost of which he could still feel brushing against his jaw?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola sighed. The moment between them passed, and the anger that had flared to life in the room dimmed down to an ember.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps we should just commence the lesson,” she said dismissively. “I’m tired of having the same conversation over and over.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“An excellent idea,” Marchion snapped, his annoyance flaring once more at the fact that she'd gotten the last word in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He slammed the pod shut. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Omg these two. If the Republic doesn't kill them, the snark definitely will...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“No,” she said quickly. “Not the San Tekka’s.”</p>
<p>“Where then?” he asked.</p>
<p>Sola said nothing. What business was it of his, and anyway, what if it incriminated her further? </p>
<p>“Sola,” he growled. “Tell me voluntarily or I will extract the information.”</p>
<p>Well then.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello :)</p>
<p>Quick note to say I've added a "body image" tag because I realized in my outline that it does pop up more than once for our heroine, just wanted to flag that!</p>
<p>OK enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>All things considered, it wasn’t particularly difficult to get the hang of the controls. Sola had flown planet hoppers on Cyone, and it was impossible to live on Coruscant for any significant amount of time without learning a thing or two about flying different kinds of ships. When it came to piloting, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gaze Electric </span>
  </em>
  <span>functioned much like any other ship. The key difference was that all the controls were rerouted through the pod, and the set-up was not the most intuitive. According to Marchion, it had been installed to the specifications of the former occupant. Fortunately he’d been on hand enough to observe how everything worked - not having overseen the installation himself - and was able to convey it all to Sola in a cold, clinical fashion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Where she began to struggle was with the concept of “Path” navigation. So far, she’d managed to keep the details of her knowledge base vague, and this seemed to satisfy. But recognizing predetermined points on a map did not a navigator make, especially when the expectation was that she would be able to create new such points, not just use the existing ones. Marchion had vaguely mentioned “piloting the Paths'' while he’d indicated which control served which purpose, but said nothing else. Sola remained hopeful that he wouldn’t mention them again until she’d had time to peruse the data pad a little closer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unfortunately, in keeping with the last four days, Sola had no such luck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When you identify a Path,” Marchion was saying, “if it’s for this vessel, you may input it directly like so. If it’s for another ship, it must pass through me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Input it?” Sola asked, peering out from the pod.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Into the Path Engine,” Marchion said, as though she were being dense on purpose. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Path…Engine. Of course. Path Engine.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola would have asked him what he meant, but his expression told her that she was on thin ice, asking questions to which he believed she already knew the answer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> heard of a Path Engine?” Marchion asked, his voice deadly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He opened the front of the pod and stood towering above her, his broad frame filling her entire field of vision. He glared down at her, his soulless predators eyes boring holes into her. She thought about lying, but even that felt risky. Something unsettled her about the Nihil before her. She didn’t believe him capable of mind reading, but nonetheless remained convinced that he would catch her dishonesty. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I…in theory. I didn’t realize anyone had managed to create a working one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The general concept of being able to navigate through space, not along the hyperspace lanes but by jumping in and out of seemingly random points in space, had been floated about while Sola was at school. Judging by the map, it was the same sort of concept Marchion seemed to be talking about now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The San Tekka’s know of our little technique?” he asked, intrigued. “I wonder why they haven’t yet passed on their knowledge to the Republic. Or to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jedi</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He mentioned the name of the order of warrior monks with a particular venom, his disdain going beyond the general annoyance that some felt towards the Jedi.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” she said quickly. “Not the San Tekka’s.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where then?” he asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola said nothing. What business was it of his, and anyway, what if it incriminated her further? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sola,” he growled. “Tell me voluntarily or I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> extract the information.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well then.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The University. On Coruscant,” she explained quickly. “It was only theory then, but that was a decade ago.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stars, had it been ten years since her university days? Sometimes it felt fresh in her mind, as though her final class were only days behind her. Other times, it felt like another lifetime, as though it had happened to another. Misery and loneliness had a funny way of distorting time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only a decade?” Marchion sounded amused. “Tell me, was it considered a new theory then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, somewhat,” Sola said, her intellectual curiosity now thoroughly piqued. “But it was falling out of favour among academics.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was dismissed as a statistical impossibility. Too random.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion smiled at Sola. Every nerve in her body flared to life at once, alarmed at having his true, undivided attention. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you know better,” he said. “Don’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She did. She’d often argued that no technological breakthrough was ever truly </span>
  <em>
    <span>random</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that there was logic to be found in everything. She’d written papers on the subject. She had been on the verge of applying for funding to research it further.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Aurel came along. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Marchion,” a new voice said as the cockpit door slid open, just as she was wondering how to express her belief to the Eye.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stepped away from the mouth of the pod, and Sola took the opportunity to unfasten her restraints. By the time she stepped out, she found Marchion in conversation with a certain Mirialan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Garran,” she said with a nod as he took in her new appearance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sola!” he said, fixing his charming smile to his face once again. “I didn’t expect to see you here. I almost didn’t recognize you, you look like one of us now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion cleared his throat, calling Garran’s attention back to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Garran said quickly. “As I was saying, they’re spread all over the sector. That new station of theirs is really attracting attention.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm. You’ve done well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dismissed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Garran inclined his head towards Marchion in respect, winked at Sola, then slipped out of the cockpit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Enough of this,” Marchion said harshly, as soon as the door slid shut. Sola hadn’t noticed that a faint smile had appeared on her face until Marchion’s tone made it slide right off. “It’s time to begin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll need a little time,” Sola said, scrambling at once to make her excuses. “I haven’t actually calculated a Path before I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No Path needed,” Marchion cut in. “Your first task is simply to pilot us to the Great Hall.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Great Hall?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of the Nihil,” he finished. “It’s our gathering place, and we have important business to discuss as a collective.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need the coordinates,” Sola said, thoroughly relieved that fate had bought her a little time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion pulled them up on the ship’s computer, and Sola frowned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s something wrong with these,” she said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I assure you, there is not.” He sounded offended.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This isn’t on any known chart. These shouldn’t even exist. ”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion laughed bitterly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because the Republic has not charted it, you take that to mean it does not exist at all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What was your Outer Rim before it was taken over by agents of Chancellor Soh? Perhaps you believe that it too, did not exist.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Coordinates are relative,” Sola explained. “Even if they haven’t been charted, it should follow a progression of some kind. These…don’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion pressed his lips together in a line.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Relative to what, exactly?” he challenged. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Sola gasped, realization striking her. “If your point of origin is different…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion hummed, apparently pleased.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Any further concerns?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was about to reply in the negative, when the silence between them was punctuated by a loud growl. Though it sounded like a feral beast preparing for an attack, Sola knew better. It had slowly been dawning on her that she hadn’t eaten since the meagre rations in her cell. That had to have been hours ago, nearly a full standard day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She flushed a deep crimson, shame burning her cheeks as she remembered what Aurel would say in times like this. He would pointedly and cruelly drag his eyes down to her midsection and sneer, before commenting on the soft shape of her body, or how she could manage a little longer without eating. Whether or not it was only the two of them in the room made little difference to him. He’d even done it on occasion in front of one of his mistresses. Tears of white hot rage provoked by the memory pricked the corner of her eyes. She looked at the floor, not wanting to meet Marchion’s similarly judgemental gaze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sola?” he asked, without a hint of censure. “Look at me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She angled her face upward slowly, doing her best to blink the tears away. She managed for the most part, save for a single treacherous tear that coursed down her cheek. She hastily wiped it with her sleeve.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A muscle in Marchion’s face twitched. Confusion? Amusement? Sola wasn’t sure. Either way, he did not appear to be evaluating her as Aurel had. Instead he asked her very matter-of-factly when the last time she’d eaten had been, and she replied honestly. He merely nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have Oora show you to the galley. You may not be Nihil but you’re part of the crew. You’re no good to me if you faint from hunger.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” she said, not knowing what else to say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned and headed for the door. Sola called after him, remembering something that had been worrying her since she’d seen Garran again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Marchion,” she said, “should it come up, what do I tell people I am to you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I trust you can manage simple conversations without my input, Sola.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And risk displeasing the Eye of the Nihil?” Her tone walked the line between cautious and mocking. “When you’ve made it so clear what happens to those who do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He paused by the door and frowned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I assume you’re keeping my true role to yourself,” she continued. “Am I to say that I’m a prisoner?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That will raise questions,” he began.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A hostage then? In the event of a run in with…my family?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded brusquely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very well. A hostage. Now, attend to your task, I would like us there within the hour.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With that, Marchion Ro donned his mask and swept out of the room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The sliding of the door and the stomps of two sets of feet - one slower and lumbering, the other loud on purpose - heralded the arrival of Pan Eyta and Lourna Dee into Marchion’s ready room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For his part, he barely glanced up from the holotable, which was displaying a map of a section of the Outer Rim. At the edge of the sector was an element, one he’d struggled with placing until Garran had returned with the information he lacked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Starlight Beacon</span>
  </em>
  <span>. A colossal monstrosity that was a testament to the audacity of the Republic, that now lay more precisely within his grasp.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion had heard rumblings of such an endeavour, dating back to when his father was the Eye. Back then, they’d proceeded with relative caution, knowing that a direct assault would result in their annihilation. Better to let them believe the Nihil were the stuff of nightmares and strike from the shadows. Then it all went wrong. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion’s father had led the charge, and there he encountered not just the Chancellor’s agents, but her faithful lackeys as well, the monastic order known as the Jedi. Marchion’s father had no great love for the Jedi, and his dislike passed down to his son. While Marchion might have otherwise held them on par with other inconveniences, it was after the death of his father that everything changed for him. He needed answers. Information. Yet the Jedi remained scarce.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Until now. Now they had their precious </span>
  <em>
    <span>Starlight Beacon</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Marchion?” Pan Eyta said, after his not-so-subtle coughs had gone unacknowledged. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We received your summons to rendezvous at the Great Hall,” Loura Dee said impatiently. “What’s so important that it couldn’t wait another hour?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are the duties of Tempest Runner too taxing for you, Lourna?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He admired her initiative and her fearlessness, but truly, the way she visibly chafed under his authority was beginning to become a problem.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course not, Marchion,” Pan Eyta began, attempting to smooth things over as always. “I believe Lourna is merely-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do not speak for her,” he bit out quietly. Pan Eyta fell silent at once, and dropped his eyes to the floor avoiding Marchion’s concealed gaze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well?” Marchion asked Lourna. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You seem to forget we are not your </span>
  <em>
    <span>vassals</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Lourna hissed. “The relationship between Tempest Runners and the Eye have always been transactional. Payment in exchange for Paths. But it seems that only one of us is holding up their side of the bargain at the moment.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see,” Marchion said, in a flat voice. “And you feel the same, do you, Pan?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know you don’t consider us directly in your service, Marchion, of course not,” Pan said quickly. “But I will admit that I feel we’ve lost our way of late. No Paths, as Lourna said, and without a leader, what remains of Kassav’s old Tempest languishes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The timing could not have been better if Marchion arranged it himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm,” Marchion said quietly, as though he were considering their words. He switched off the holotable and strode to the dais, then settled in his throne. Once he had Pan and Lourna’s attention, he called out, “Send him in,” and settled back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door slid open once again, and Garran stepped into the ready room. His confident stride faltered when his eyes fell upon the two Tempest Runner’s watching him in confusion, but he did not break. He came to a stop before Marchion and stood straight, no longer giving any indication that he was aware of the other two. Marchion glared at them, and they fell in line next to Garran, once again leaving space for Kassav out of habit. Marchion chuckled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That won’t be necessary anymore,” he said, indicating the space.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Pan asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You asked me what would become of Kassav’s Tempest. Well, the solution is before you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He inclined his head towards Garran, who looked momentarily bewildered before training his expression into something a bit more befitting his new status.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tempest Runner?” he asked. “Really?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pan looked as though he’d been slapped. Lourna let out a sarcastic laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re joking. Him? Barely gets his feet wet as a Storm, and you’ve decided to move him up the ranks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not to mention, Marchion, is it not customary to let a Tempest select their runner from among their ranks?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion sat back in his throne and glowered at them all. Though they couldn’t see his face, the mood in the room shifted palpably. Only when he had them sufficiently nervous did he speak.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Garran has proven himself more than capable of late. More, I daresay, than either of you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lourna looked as though she wanted to speak, but Pan wisely clamped down on her arm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Furthermore,” Marchion continued once the Twi’lek had settled down, “it’s becoming increasingly clear that I am in need of Tempest Runners I can trust. I suggest that neither of you make me feel as though wider leadership changes are needed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Garran said, speaking at last. “Both for the position and for your confidence in me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will make the pronouncement at the Great Hall. In the meantime, you may all go. And not a word to your Tempests!” he called as they retreated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Left alone in the silence of the ready room, and with nothing else to distract him, Marchion could feel the quiet hum of the ship around him, the subtle melody that meant the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gaze Electric</span>
  </em>
  <span> was in deliberate motion. He thought of Sola sitting alone in the cockpit, guiding the ship through No-Space. Over the last two days, she’d pulled him into some kind of strange spell concocted from a blend of defiance with a hint of vulnerability. Whether it was intentional or unintentional remained to be seen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rose to change before heading to the Great Hall. It would be a welcome pace from the tense stalemate they’d been locked in for the last two days. He needed to be among his people. To remind himself just what it meant to be the Eye.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Arriving at the coordinates Marchion had provided, Sola wasn’t quite sure what she’d expected to see, but she knew this wasn’t it. Ships hovered in place, tethered to nothing whatsoever. But it was the strange sight beyond that caught her attention. There was what appeared to be a giant platform floating in space, surrounded by a shimmering shield of some kind. She assumed it regulated gravity and made the air breathable at the very least, since she could see a handful of beings milling about inside, and smaller shuttles heading in that direction from the larger nearby ships.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She keyed in a quick note to Marchion’s ready room, alerting him of their arrival, then freed herself from the constraints of the pod. She was halfway back to her quarters when her path was intercepted by a familiar face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello, fancy finding you here,” Garran said, his tone already flirty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s nice to see you again, Garran,” she said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now where have you been hiding all this time?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The cockpit,” she said without thinking. She hastily added, “I enjoy the view, I haven’t been offworld in some time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I suppose you didn’t get to enjoy much of your trip over here, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola half-smiled and laughed politely. She stepped to the side and tried to get around him, but he matched her movement and continued to block her path.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is there something you needed?” she asked, mildly frustrated despite the charming smile he was throwing her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing later?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Reading, probably,” she said neutrally. Though if the files left behind by the last navigator were any indication, “reading” was the understatement of the year.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, forget that!” Garran laughed. “Why not come to a party with me?”</span>
</p>
<p><em><span>A party?</span></em> <em><span>Of all the requests!</span></em></p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry about the joke before,” he added quickly, mistaking her confusion for hesitation. “I promise I won’t make it again. Or anything like it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He held up his hands in mock surrender.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know, Garran-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aw, come on. There’s food, music, every kind of pleasure imaginable, including good company,” he winked. Sola rolled her eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though now that she thought about it, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been to a real party. It had been some San Tekka society function, fairly early in her marriage. After that she’d been to a few smaller events on Cyone, but by that time Aurel had begun working his way through every woman in the settlement, and the gossip and judgement levied at Sola became unbearable. So she stayed home, stopped socializing. The girl who had once loved to socialize had diminished almost entirely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But for better or worse, no one knew her here. If tongues wagged, </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> could control the story they told. With a final, snide thought about what Aurel would say if he saw her accepting an invite to a party from a handsome Nihil, she smiled at Garran.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure, why not?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Meet me in the shuttle bay in 30 minutes?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola agreed, and rushed back to her quarters, the beginnings of a silly smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. By the time she stood outside the doors, she was overcome with the desire to double over in defiant laughter. A scream from inside the room, however put an end to that plan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Stop it! Stooppppp.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without thinking, she hastily typed in the code to the door. If someone was harming Oora, she hoped her presence as witness would distract them long enough to think of a solution. But she needn’t have worried after all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She crossed the threshold to find Oora with her arms wrapped around Irami. Both of them had changed out of their more utilitarian clothing, in favour of outfits that were more suited for a night out, but without losing their functional edge. Oora was attempting to plant messy kisses on her face. Irami, for her part, had applied complex-looking cosmetics and seemed concerned that Oora’s efforts would spoil the effect.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Sola gasped at once, averting her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No no, don’t be sorry,” Irami said, using the interruption to push Oora off of her gently. “You’ve just saved me. I’m eternally in your debt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eternally?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well. I’ll owe you one, how’s that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see the clothes fit! Somewhat!” Oora observed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This was you?” Sola asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re from someone in our Tempest,” Oora explained. “We’re still looking for a repair kit for you, neither of us has one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Sola said, meaning it. “I hate to ask for anything more, but do you have anything other than this on hand?” She plucked at her large tunic. It occurred to her that if she was going to attend a party, then perhaps she ought to put a more effort into her appearance. She explained her predicament. Oora shook her head and turned her starry eyes to Irami.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh…I might,” the Duros said. “Wait here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Irami slipped out of the bunk, which fell into sudden silence. Sola’s stomach growled again, this time more insistently. She was also beginning to feel lightheaded. Remembering Marchion’s command, she asked Oora where the galley could be found. As the Rodian explained it to her, she also tossed Sola a ration bar from the drawer under her bunk. It was stale, it was dry, and Sola had never tasted anything so delicious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Half an hour later, the three of them headed to the shuttle bay together. Sola had managed to do something with her hair, arranging it in an intricate tail that cascaded down her back. While neither of her new companions had much in the way of human-suitable cosmetics, Oora did have a cream rouge that Sola dabbed sparingly on her lips to match the borrowed shirt she wore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Irami had returned, she carried with her a long, crimson shirt, with long loose sleeves. It had been designed for the Duros’ narrower frame, so when Sola slipped it on, it clung to her every curve. The lower neckline left the tops of her breasts visible to any who cared to look. The looks on Oora and Irami’s faces were a positive sign that the effect was appealing rather than lewd.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Garran stood by the ramp of one of the few shuttles in the bay. His vivid eyes bulged when he saw Sola, and she permitted herself a flush of satisfaction. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This colour suits you,” Garran murmured in her ear as they settled in, not so subtly glancing at the exposed skin of her chest. Sola glanced down as well, but all she could see was what wasn’t there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tonight, she wore no jewellery, leaving her wedding band in her bunk. She’d carried Aurel with her long enough.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Up next: Nihil party time.</p>
<p>What on Earth could go wrong?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>He tried to push her out of his head, relegating all thoughts of her to the same corner of his mind where he’d sent the feel of her fingers stroking his jaw. He did not have the time nor the inclination for a flirtation with a captive, unwilling navigator. </p>
<p>A flash of dark hair through the crowd caught his eye. No, he thought. I’m seeing things. It was only because he’d just been thinking of her that he thought he saw Sola in the crowd now. </p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello :)</p>
<p>Tiny content warning for background recreational drug use. I didn't want to add it to the tags up top, it's not really a reoccurring thing, I just thought I'd mention it!</p>
<p>OK, enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Chaos.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If there were one word to sum up the festivities of the Nihil, it would be this. Complete and utter chaos. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gatherings were held in the Great Hall at the slightest excuse, the platform in No-Space existing in a nearly perpetual state of hedonistic merriment. It was rare for all to be in attendance, but when the Eye of the Nihil summoned, all flocked to answer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion never truly held court at such things before. Not in the traditional sense. When he chose to speak, all would listen, but rare was the occasion where he actually did so. Pride of place in the Great Hall always went to the Tempest Runners, with Marchion preferring to remain to the side, observing. But things were different this time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now, Marchion occupied the central table, raised slightly above the others. Pan Eyta and Lourna Dee would take their places by him, the former appearing not to mind, the latter seething when she realized how things were to be. But for now, the High Table remained unoccupied. The two older Tempest Runners were somewhere out there, partaking in the liquor and the drugs that flowed freely through the crowd. Once Garran arrived, they could make the announcement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion had missed this. He’d needed this. He spent too long confined to the silence of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gaze Electric</span>
  </em>
  <span>. His Jedi problem and the enigma of the artifact weighed heavily on him, as did his struggle to balance that with the burden of being the Eye, responsible for the Paths that would allow the Nihil to keep flourishing in the sector.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the music blared, reverberating through his skull, he also reflected that he was glad to be away from his ship because it put some space between him and Sola. Yet another enigma for him to figure out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She might have thought she was fooling him with her bravado and snark, but there was no concealing the pain and vulnerability in her eyes. She certainly </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> brave, there was no denying - very few would dare to be as rude to him as she had been. But it was the inexplicable tear she’d shed in the cockpit that would haunt him. Had she truly been so afraid of him that she was too frightened to ask to have her basic needs met? Surely not, this was the same woman who upon being ordered to serve as his navigator had countered with terms of employment. He tried to push her out of his head, relegating all thoughts of her to the same corner of his mind where he’d sent the feel of her fingers stroking his jaw. He did not have the time nor the inclination for a flirtation with a captive, unwilling navigator. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A flash of dark hair through the crowd caught his eye. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m seeing things</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was only because he’d just been thinking of her that he thought he saw Sola in the crowd now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There it was again. It couldn’t be Sola. Unless-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Marchion,” called a male voice, bringing him back to the here and now. Behind his mask, his eyes focused on Garran, who stood before him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Good. This was a welcome distraction. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nihil!” Marchion called to the crowd at large. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As one, the assembled fell quiet. The music dimmed. All eyes - masked and unmasked, inebriated or sober - were on him now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The silence of the hall was broken by a single, violent cough, quickly stifled. His eyes darted to the source of the noise: a human woman, flanked by a Duros and a Rodian, her hands clapped over her mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola was here.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Chaos.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The only word Sola could find to describe the party she walked into was complete and utter chaos. She hardly had time to register her surroundings before her senses were all assaulted at once.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aggressive music, at once shrill and booming, pounded against her hears, amplified by the din of the crowd. Cyone had been a primarily human settlement, and it had been years since Sola had seen this many beings from so many worlds all in one space. Many mingled at the long wooden tables that lined the colossal Hall, engaged in loud conversation or raucous drinking games. A cluster of the Nihil had congregated in one of the empty sections of the floor and were ostensibly dancing, but not in a way Sola had ever seen. Their bodies pulsed and writhed together in a hypnotic rhythmic pattern.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Save a dance for me?” Garran muttered in her ear, making her jump. He chuckled at her reaction. His lips brushed against her earlobe as he withdrew, running his hands over her shoulders and down her arms. Sola felt her face flood with warmth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> going?” Irami said, narrowing her eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll see,” Garran said vaguely. He winked and disappeared into the throng. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ugh.” Irami rolled her eyes. Oora said nothing however, her large eyes trained on Sola which only made her flush harder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Sola asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Oora replied, far too cheerfully. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They weaved through the crowd together, the cold chill of the airlock slowly giving way to warmth brought on by many bodies crammed in close proximity. The sweltering heat was amplified by the open flame torches that surrounded the space, casting a fiery glow over everything. Sola began to regret the decision to wear such long sleeves and not pull her hair up. A trickle of sweat ran down her forehead, and into her eye. She blinked to banish the salty sting, colliding with Oora during her momentary blindness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, sorry,” Sola said quickly. The Rodian wrapped her hand around Sola’s wrist to guide her forward more easily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s going on?” Sola called, confused about where she was being pulled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wanna get to the food before all the good stuff is gone!” Irami called back. She was leading their little band as they trooped through the crowd. She and Oora called out the occasional greeting to a familiar face. By the time they approached their destination, unseen hands had pressed pints of ale into their hands, and it took everything Sola had not to spill it everywhere.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The air smelled faintly of spice smoke with the light tang of perspiration. It was replaced immediately by something altogether more pleasant that made Sola’s knees grow weak and her head feel light. The aroma of a thousand delicious things wafted across a table groaning with plates and bowls, washing over Sola. That ration bar had held her over, but it felt like it had been hours ago. Her eyes grew wide and darted over to Oora and Irami, waiting to see what they would do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Warm up, then food?” Oora proposed, lifting her cup.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do we drink to?” Irami said, holding her drink aloft as well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To the prosperity of the Nihil, of course!” Oora replied, in a tone that suggested this was the expected answer, if not the most sincere. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not to our new friend?” Irami said, in mock offence, a hand held out dramatically to Sola. Her eyes also flashed at Oora, though Sola couldn’t figure out why</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola, for her part, had already sipped at the rather strong ale, and when combined with the lack of food in her stomach, it was making her rather giddy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To prosperity found in the company of new friends!” she proposed, feeling extremely proud of how wise she sounded despite the way her knees felt tingly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hear, hear!” Oora and Irami cried loudly, downing their drinks in a single go. Sola drank hers more slowly, adding a silent toast of her own, one to her eventual success with the Path Engine. As she reached the bottom of her mug, she formulated a second toast to make for herself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>To independance</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thought, downing the last of the ale and abandoning her glass on a nearby table. On unsteady legs, Sola tottered over to where Irami and Oora waited, surrounded by the enticing aromas of the widest ranging cuisine she’d ever seen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Years as a student had left Sola with the habit of snatching the most convenient food available and eating it as quickly as possible. Years with the San Tekka’s had shamed her out of such habits, enforcing the importance of taking one’s time and only aspiring to the finest of offerings. Or rather the most elegant available, as Sola had always found the flavour on Cyone to be a bit lacking and under-seasoned.  Now it seemed she would have to get used to a whole new way of doing things. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She couldn’t say with any certainty that she recognized anything on the long tables laden with food. Instead she settled for grabbing the two things that lay closest: a soft aromatic bun and a skewer of some kind of meat that made her nose prickle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nihil!” a voice called out over the crowd just as she bit into the skewer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The crowd could not have picked a worse time to fall silent. Whatever it was Sola had just bitten into made her mouth feel like it was on fire. The burning spread across her face and made her eyes water. She tried to keep her lips pressed together, but all it did was cause her pain. She needed relief and she needed it now. She coughed violently once.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The crowd shifted slightly to look her way. She wished the floor of the Great Hall would open and suck her out into the cold vacuum of space, because surely that was preferable to this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their interest was short lived, fortunately, and they all turned back to the speaker on the dais. They’d lost interest. But the speaker, Marchion Ro, still kept his eyes trained directly on her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As much as he might want to, Marchion couldn’t stay staring at Sola forever. Hundreds upon hundreds of faces stared at him now, waiting to see why the Eye had deigned to call upon them, and they wouldn’t wait forever. Tearing his eyes away from the navigator, whose face was beginning to flush with the effort of not coughing again, Marchion addressed the crowd once more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It has been many weeks,” he said quietly, now that he had their attention. “Many weeks since our ranks were shattered by those who claim to hold the power in the Outer Rim.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The crowd hissed at his words, but lapsed back into silence. No one dared interrupt the Eye.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Outer Rim</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he spat. “So called because the Republic believes themselves the centre of the galaxy. Because they believe everything must be seen through their narrow lens. But we know better, do we not?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At this, the crowd roared it’s approval. Marchion risked a quick glance at Sola. She did not cheer with the rest - he hadn’t expected her to - but nor did she seem repulsed by his words, merely curious. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And now in their </span>
  <em>
    <span>arrogance</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the Republic and their precious Jedi have decided that all must abide by the rules they set. Those who don’t shall feel their full wrath.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His voice had dropped to barely more than a whisper. The crowd leaned forward almost imperceptibly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We have lost a great many to their machinations, including Kassav and many of his ships. In his absence, what remains of his Tempest suffers. No longer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All assembled straightened up a little. They could sense that things were about to get interesting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have selected a replacement for Kassav. One who will lead the remainder of his Tempest, who will ensure our numbers grow and that the Nihil continue to strengthen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he’d been speaking, Lourna and Pan slipped through the crowd and stood directly before him, facing the crowd as well. They left their customary empty space between them, one that would shortly be occupied.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come forward, Garran Del, and take your place among the Tempest Runners.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The crowd parted, albeit with some hesitation, to admit Garran. The Mirialan strode forward confidently. He’d clearly gone to some effort to dress for his new station, his vest and boots a far more ostentatious version of what he usually wore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I accept this honour, Marchion,” he said simply, before turning to face the crowd as Pan and Lourna did. The words said, the crowd burst into cheers once more, which were quickly cut short by a roar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But we do not!” a gravelly voice cried out from the back of the hall. The crowd split in two, leaving a small group at the centre headed by a Quarren male.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are?” Marchion asked, barely concealing his annoyance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Vossek,” the Quarren replied. “A Storm in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kassav’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> Tempest.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His stress on Kassav’s name rankled Marchion. He could tolerate a fair bit of insolence from Lourna, and even Pan on occasion. They had earned that right. Gentle ribbing from Storms like Irami, that too he could handle. But this? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This bordered on mutiny. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where is your objection, Vossek?” Marchion said, keeping his voice low to counteract the Quarren’s bluster. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is not for others to determine who is to lead us!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Others?” Marchion turned to the rest assembled. “Tell me,” he asked the assembly, “who is it who leads us?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“THE EYE!” they cried as one. Marchion noticed that the sudden roar had made Sola jump. His senses were far too attuned to this woman. He forced himself to focus as silence fell once more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Eye,” he repeated. “Who are you to contradict what the Eye has dictated?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I-” the Quarren began.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why did you not bring this matter to me when Kassav fell?” Marchion interrupted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Quarren said nothing, but his facial tentacles tensed in fury.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I suspect your Tempest was unsuccessful in selecting a leader. I have done so for you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You go too far!” Vossek roared. “I challenge you over this assault on our honour!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The crowd gasped. Such challenges were common among the Nihil but no one - </span>
  <em>
    <span>no one</span>
  </em>
  <span> - dared challenge the Eye. Marchion strode deliberately to the high table and made a great show of removing his transparisteel mask. It was the custom in such challenges, to face one’s opponent directly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He set it down and leapt to the ground, the sound of his boots thundering across the Hall. The crowd parted even further, allowing him to pass. By the time he reached Vossek, those who had been standing behind the Quarren had dispersed into the crowd. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vossek drew himself up in a vain attempt to match Marchion’s height. He neither commented on, nor humoured the attempt. He merely drew closer, the better to render such efforts fruitless. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion drew his slugthrower from its holster and fired. It was messier than a blaster, firing a bullet rather than an energy blast. More violent too. The point blank range left him with a smattering of blood across his face, arms and tunic. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Good</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Let them see me like this. See what comes of being as foolish as Vossek</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Quarren’s body hit the durasteel floor with a resounding thud. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hear me now,” he said, his voice still level and deadly. He had no need to shout. No one in the hall would dare breathe too loudly at such a time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Or cough</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought, wryly, Sola’s face dancing briefly before his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am the Eye. On the night the Tempests united under my leadership, I assumed the responsibility for you all. For </span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span> all. Any decision I make is for the good of the Nihil. For our reputation and our honour. I trust that will not be questioned again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The silence weighed heavily over the festivities.  No one dared to step forward and claim the body, so Marchion remained as he was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who are we?” Lourna cried, severing the tension.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Nihil!” came the subdued response.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do we ride?” Garran chimed in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The storm!” The voices grew louder now. By the time Pan led them in the final call-and-response, an ode to Marchion himself, the atmosphere had returned to normal. The liquor flowed, the drugs were consumed in earnest, the spice smoke permeated the air. The music resumed, the conversation restarted and Vossek’s body was unceremoniously dragged off by his comrades. Marchion had debated throwing him beyond the vacuum seal that made the air in the hall breathable, but he wasn’t interested in an outright riot. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead he retreated to his table and sat, a drink in hand, surveying all that was his.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sola wasn’t sure what she’d expected. In some way, she objectively knew that Marchion was the “Eye of the Nihil”, their leader. She was also aware that the Nihil were numerous. If stories of their actions all over the galaxy weren’t enough to convince her, then seeing the crowd here was enough to do just that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And somehow, in spite of all this, she’d allowed herself to be fooled. To think that she was in any way special to the man who stood before the crowd now. She was an asset to him, nothing more. Not even a true Nihil. Any kindness shown to her when it was the two of them alone was just that. A kindness. One designed to make her amenable and compliant with his wishes, even though the knowledge that her life was in his hands was enough to do that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The pull she felt towards him, something she’d foolishly classified as “attraction”, would have to be put aside and forgotten. Watching him hold the whole crowd in his palm had been proof enough of that. He was charming, charismatic. Of course she believed herself falling for him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he’d summoned Garran to the front of the room Sola had been shocked. Garran, a Tempest Runner? He’d said nothing their whole way over here, but he had to have known. His face did not register any surprise whatsoever. He and his handsome smile served as a sobering reminder. Sola was not here to be romanced - indeed, if she had her way, she would be en route to Coruscant instead of at the heart of Nihil festivities. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But she had no idea how long this would be her reality. If she were to allow herself a little indulgence, a flirtation perhaps, then she would be far better off allowing herself to be wooed by the one who was interested, attainable, instead of the one she suspected would haunt her dreams. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The mood in the room took a turn then. A disgruntled Quarren challenged Marchion’s decision to grant Garran a new title. Given the way the crowd parted to allow for a large space in the centre of the hall, Sola had expected a brawl to erupt. Instead, in a matter of seconds, the Quarren lay dead on the floor, with Marchion towering over him, his predator's eyes burning, scarlet blood on his face and arms. He looked furious. Powerful. She ought to be terrified. Instead Sola felt an inconvenient flutter in her belly that she did her best to squash. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He returned to the high table, just as warm fingers wrapped around Sola’s arm and tugged. Oora pulled her back towards one of the food tables where Irami waited, three glasses of a bright blue liquor in her hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Spotchka?” Irami asked, handing the drinks over without waiting for a response. Sola accepted the glass and sat in a seat near the same plate of buns she’d taken from before. Oora and Irami settled across from her. Sola finally attempted to eat something without burning the inside of her mouth or otherwise causing internal damage. She settled on the buns, which were filled with some kind of herb that gave it its distinctive aroma, and a meat dish that Oora assured her was more savoury than spicy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Irami lit up a spice stick and took a long drag before passing it to Oora. The Rodian then tried to pass it to Sola, who waved it off. There was already too much stimulus, and her entire body was starting to feel pleasantly warm and tingly from the spotchka. The last thing she needed was for this to be the first time she tried smoking spice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it usually like this?” Sola asked at last.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like this?” Oora asked, gesturing vaguely at the Great Hall. “Or like…” she imitated a blaster firing with her fingers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.” She imitated the gesture.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not usually,” Irami shrugged. “But it does happen from time to time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A price has to be paid,” Oora added, “for questioning the Eye, or endangering the Nihil.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And is the Eye usually the one who makes them pay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Oora said. “Not always.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It should have been Garran to do it but he’s-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Careful what you say, Irami,” Garran said, sliding up behind Sola. “I outrank you now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you do, Tempest Runner,” Irami said flatly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No hard feelings?” Garran said, extending his palm on which sat brightly coloured capsules. Oora and Irami each took two from him and placed them on their tongues, though Irami rolled her eyes as she did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For you?” he offered Sola.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’ll enhance your mood.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola shook her head. Garran shrugged and set the rest of the capsules before Oora, who pocketed them at once.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How about that dance?” Garran murmured in Sola’s ear, his lips brushing against the cartilage.  She glanced over at her companions, unsure if she was even permitted out of their sight. They had already disappeared to join the throng at the centre of the hall however. Sola placed her hand in Garran’s outstretched one and permitted herself to be led away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasted no time in pulling her close, guiding her through the unfamiliar rhythms. It were as though his hands were everywhere all at once, pulling, brushing, touching and caressing. Their breaks were few, stopping only when one of them needed some kind of refreshment, or when the song didn’t appeal to either of them. Sola lost track of how long they danced, her perception of time warped by the liquor and the fact that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen the sky above be anything but endlessly black and dotted with stars. The only indication of the passage of time was the gradually thinning crowd.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly, the music changed, the beat became far less aggressive. Those assembled paired off and began to dance more slowly, their bodies pressed together more intimately. Garran held Sola equally as close, trailing a finger up and down her spine as they swayed. She allowed her head to rest on his shoulder, as she saw some others doing with their partners.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shall we?” Garran whispered. His body angled towards the passage leading to the airlock where the shuttles were docked. Sola nodded. A nervous energy bubbled to the surface, flooding the air between them with an inexplicable electricity, something Sola couldn’t quite explain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the dark of the corridor that led to the dock, Garran leaned in closer to Sola, pressing her back against the wall. His lips fell softly over hers. Sola tensed. This was the first man to kiss her since her husband, and even then it had been years. She had no idea how to react, but was fairly certain this wasn’t it. And she was ruining the whole thing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She made herself relax into it, closing her eyes and allowing Garran to guide her, to encourage her lips to open and admit him. Her heart hammered in her chest. Garran slid his hands around to her back and dug his long fingers into her flesh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What is happening</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Sola wondered. She was out on a starship, kissing a near-perfect stranger, when she ought to be home being made miserable by…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A sudden question occurred to her. She needed to know</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Garran.” Sola asked quietly, pushing him away and opening her eyes. “Did my mother-in-law really tell you where to find me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She did.” He caressed her face with the back of his fingers. ”She was told that information leading to you would spare her life.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. But it was too late for her by then, anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola wasn’t entirely certain about whether or not to believe Garran. It was entirely too convenient a story, designed to lower her defences. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then again, there really was no way they should have been able to correctly identify her. Perhaps there was some truth to the story after all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At that, a swell of rage boiled within her. That someone from her so-called new family had thought her so inconsequential, even at the end, that she’d been handed to the Nihil no questions asked, with no attempt made to protect her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola thought she might scream. She certainly wanted to punch something. Instead, she seized Garran’s shirt and pulled him in for a rough, inexpert kiss to stifle any rage on the point of escaping her. She felt him smile against her lips, before deepening it once again. He planted his hands on the wall on either side of her as she wrapped her arms around his torso. He broke away from her mouth and moved down towards her neck. Heat coursed through her as she pressed herself insistently against his leg, which he’d slid between hers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyes closed once more as she let him mark her neck with his lips. As her awareness of the space around her faded into darkness her imagination began to wander. Suddenly, when she pictured herself in this moment, the lips that were pressed against her were not a vivid green, but slate gray. The arms that held her in place were not clad in soft black fabric, but were bare and muscular. The eyes that bored holes of desire into her were not violet but the smooth obsidian of an animalistic predator. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Marchion</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thought, unintentionally. The image of allowing him to touch and taste her in this way made her knees grow weak. She bit on her lip to bring herself back to reality. She was being silly, and anyway here was a perfectly handsome man making her feel a way Aurel had barely managed in the early days of their relationship. She kept her eyes open then, and fixed on Garran as best as she could. In giving herself over to the sensations he was eliciting, a soft hum of pleasure reverberated through her chest, encouraging him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sola,” she heard Oora calling. The Rodian appeared around the bend seconds later. She froze as she spotted Sola and Garran tangled in each other, clothing already rumpled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Garran removed his lips from her throat, and planted a single kiss on her forehead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess I’ll see you later,” he said with a grin. He stepped away from her and disappeared down the corridor, leaving her clinging to the wall, her shaking legs unable to support her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” Oora asked lightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” she replied, a little dazed. “What’s the matter?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s Marchion. He wants to see you.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>She was so close, he could definitely smell the liquor radiating off her skin, replacing the usual faint aroma of spices that permeated the air around her.</p>
<p>“You are my navigator and-”</p>
<p>“Navigator,” she half-shouted. “Not your prisoner. Not your hostage. You do not own me, Marchion Ro.”</p>
<p>Marchion was stunned into silence at being cut off so abruptly. Any hint of intoxication in Sola had faded for the moment, burned away by the rage that blazed in her eyes.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy Monday! A faster update than I usually post, I had some time last week to get a bit ahead with my chapter. Enjoy :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was only once the Great Hall was empty that Marchion truly appreciated how vast it was. He sat alone at his table, the only remaining occupant of the enormous platform, surrounded by the detritus of yet another raucous evening. Broken dishes, spilled food and drink, the ends of spice sticks all littered the floor. Benches were overturned or pushed to the side. It would all be cleared away, of course, but only once he left. The service droids would not be activated while he was still around. He intended on leaving shortly, but he had one final matter to attend to. He idly cast a glance outwards, watching as tiny shuttles returned to their significantly larger berths. Looming behind them all was the</span>
  <em>
    <span> Gaze Electric, </span>
  </em>
  <span>it’s size impossible to fathom in the contextless emptiness of space.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The torches that surrounded the hall burned as brightly as ever, still casting a warm glow, which drew into even greater contrast the crushing darkness that surrounded Marchion. He was used to silence, but here, in this place, it felt eerie. He was hardly ever the last one in the Hall, and he wasn’t certain he cared for it much. The silence, however, made it far easier to hear the faintest of sounds in the distance. The turbo lift, for instance, which led up from the airlock. He heard its quiet hum, the soft whoosh of the doors, followed by the somewhat awkward gait of someone unsteady on her feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola walked carefully into the room, as though determined not to trip. She came to a stop before the platform holding Marchion’s table and drew herself up to her full height. She pointed her nose in the air, trying to affect a dignified demeanour, and stared at him through narrow eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wanted to see me?” she asked evenly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you feeling alright, Sola?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your face,” he commented. “It’s rather flushed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her hands shot up at once to cup her cheeks, which were indeed, quite a bright shade of pink. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” she replied. With his attention focused squarely on her, he noticed two small marks forming on her throat, left behind by the eager lips of a Mirialan Tempest Runner no doubt. A flash of jealousy struck him, that it should be he and not Garran who had the privilege of marking her in such a way. His envy got the better of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You seem to have acquired a bruise or two,” he said, gesturing in the vicinity of his own neck. At that Sola went even redder, covering the telltale spot with her hand for a second before thinking better of it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that why you brought me here? To inquire after my well-being?” she asked dryly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did he give you anything you didn’t recognize?” Marchion asked, his envy manifesting as harshness. “Anything to alter your mind or enhance your mood?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He offered, but I didn’t take it.” Her reply was businesslike. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re sure?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes!” she said, taking a step away in frustration and nearly falling down in the process when her boot caught on a stray bit of trash. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you drunk, Sola?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I beg to differ, I can smell the spotchka from here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m surprised you can pick it out from among all this!” she snapped, casting her arms wide.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> drunk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>leaving</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she bit out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop!” Marchion ordered as she stalked away. She spun on her heel and charged back towards him, leaping onto the platform in a clumsy bound and stopping on the other side of his table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why? So you can continue to interrogate me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was so close, he could definitely smell the liquor radiating off her skin, replacing the usual faint aroma of spices that permeated the air around her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are my navigator and-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Navigator,” she half-shouted. “Not your prisoner. Not your hostage. You do not own me, Marchion Ro.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion was stunned into silence at being cut off so abruptly. Any hint of intoxication in Sola had faded for the moment, burned away by the rage that blazed in her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You do not have the right to tell me what to do in my own time,” she said, her voice regaining its usual volume. “Nor who I do it with.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At this, her fingers traced the marks on her neck almost defensively. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that so?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I keep your secret,” she hissed. “You want them to think you navigate on your own, I don’t question it. I’ll lie for you if I must. But the cockpit is the </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> place I will allow you to dictate my actions. Is that clear?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re quite fiery when you’re drunk,” Marchion observed, his anger fading. The jealously, however, remained an omnipresent annoyance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not drunk,” Sola mumbled, the fight gone out of her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very well, then. You should have no problem producing a Path for me tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He suspected she was, in fact, too intoxicated to work, and was merely posturing. A suspicion that was confirmed when her eyes widened to the size of holodiscs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tonight?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion nodded. He held out the vague hope that she might manage to summon her navigational abilities regardless of her state. After all, Mari managed to do so while her health rapidly deteriorated. He stood suddenly, and Sola reflexively took a step back. She was already so close to the edge that her heel overshot the platform. It landed on empty air and her entire body pitched backwards. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion shot out a hand and wrapped it around her forearm. He dragged her forward until her thighs made contact with the edge of the table. Though she was once again steady, he didn’t let go just yet. He was loath to give up her touch so quickly, however unintentional it might have been on her part. Her palm had come to rest on his own arm, her fingers unconsciously tracing the grooves of his muscles, brushing against the Quarren blood that had dried on his skin. How fascinating, that it didn’t repulse her, as he thought it might. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola glanced up at him. Once their eyes met, she flexed her fingers quickly so that they were no longer touching him. Only then did he let go, his hand replaced immediately by hers as she rubbed the spot where he’d grabbed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ow,” she muttered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” he asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s going to leave a mark.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Consider it complementary to the ones on your neck.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her mouth popped open in indignation and Marchion smirked, donned his mask and led the way, trusting her to follow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion was perfectly content to continue back to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gaze Electric</span>
  </em>
  <span> without another word. Sola, it appeared, was not feeling similarly inclined. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You could have summoned me once we were back on board,” she commented, breaking the strange silence that had sprung up between them. He hadn’t even realized how tense the air was until the tension was no more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Could I? You wouldn’t have been…otherwise engaged?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What business is that of yours?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only when it interferes with the job you’ve been tasked to do. If you find it too difficult to manage both-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola scoffed in disbelief. Marchion risked a glance down at her, only to see she was looking right back at him, hurt in her eyes though she did not let it show on her face. She blinked quickly and shook her head. He wasn’t entirely sure how he’d managed, but he’d gone too far. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sola-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” she said in a tone that was far from fine. They fell back into silence, only now the electricity that sparked the air between then was replaced with a heavy, unmistakably sadness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The turbo lift opened onto a now-deserted airlock. Only one shuttle remained, a small two-seater craft belonging to Marchion. It wasn’t often that he had the opportunity to fly it, but he relished the chance when it came. Sola sat in the passenger seat, wordlessly accepting his assistance with the restraint. He removed his mask for better visibility and tossed it into the small cargo hold. As he aided her, warm eyes searched his face as though there were something hidden there she was determined to find. Whatever it was, she appeared to reach no conclusions, and simply sat back in her chair and gazed out the window as he unmoored from the dock and piloted them out into space. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though the shuttle remained absolutely silent, save for their breathing and the occasional blip from the ship’s systems, the mood shifted noticeably, becoming far more peaceful. As Marchion began the docking sequence with the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gaze Electric,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he darted his eyes over to Sola. Her head rested in her hand, which was propped against the dashboard. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was steady. She was fast asleep. There would obviously be no navigating tonight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He settled the shuttle down in his private bay. Attendants scurried over but were quickly waved away. Marchion undid his restraints and turned to look at her properly. Despite her earlier anger with him, she had a slight smile on her face, the corner of her soft lips quirked up ever so slightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He needed to wake her. It wouldn’t do for him to wander the ship with her slung over his back. It would give rise to rumours that, while they might help maintain his lie, were not the conditions Sola had agreed to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sola?” he called quietly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm?” she hummed, not stirring. Marchion reached out, intending to shake her awake. But when his hand hovered over her shoulder, he was seized with another desire, one he gave into before he could talk himself out of it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gently brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers, stroking the soft skin as though afraid she might break. He wasn’t entirely certain what had come over him. He’d never been like this with another, like a young, hesitant boy discovering attraction for the first time. Lovers, he’d had. But this…her…she made him feel something different. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned his hand over and cupped her cheek, running his thumb softly over her cheekbone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sola?” he called again. She did stir at that, and to his surprise, tilted her head so it rested more definitively against his palm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Marchion,” she replied, her eyes still half-closed. She didn’t sound upset or surprised to see him, or to feel his hand on her. But then again she was still drowsy. He removed his hand as wakefulness returned to her eyes. She blinked away the last remnants of whatever she had been dreaming, and looked about. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are we back?” she asked, her voice thick with exhaustion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go to bed. I’ll find you in the morning.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The very first thing Sola did upon reaching her quarters was stumble into the fresher where she was immediately, violently sick to her stomach. She coughed, not bothering to keep quiet, since Oora had either not yet returned or opted to spend the night with Irami. What a surprise the Rodian would get on her return, to find Sola’s lifeless body lying on the floor of their bunk. Because Sola was absolutely certain this was how she would die. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She spat up the last of the foul bile in her stomach, and stood on shaking legs. She washed her face with cold water and stared at her reflection in the glass mounted to the wall. The woman who looked back at her was pale and sweating, a halo of frizzy hair circling her face. Surely she couldn’t actually look as drawn as the reflection made her seem. She didn’t just look intoxicated, she looked genuinely ill. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Never again,” she commanded, pointing at the woman behind the glass who in turn pointed back, also apparently admonishing Sola for her lack of restraint. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean it,” she continued. “It’s not worth it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Whether she means the liquor, the food, or just the idea of socializing in general was unclear. She didn’t much care in any case. She left the fresher and tumbled onto her bunk, eternally grateful for the automatically dim lights that signalled nighttime onboard the ship.  She settled in and squeezed her eyes shut. Yet sleep evaded her. Her mind raced with the events of the evening.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was astounding that she had managed to keep it in that long. She suspected that being rocked in the shuttle on the way back had made her stomach churn and prompted her to part with everything she had ingested that day. Fortunately she’d fallen asleep on the trip over, which had probably delayed matters and stopped yet another argument with Marchion from brewing. He might not have taken too kindly to her if she got sick in his shuttle. Would have likely ejected her without a second thought, navigation skills be damned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But then again. Perhaps he wouldn’t have been so harsh as all that. He’d been very gentle when he woke her on their arrival. The look on his face had looked like something dangerously close to tenderness. Or had that been an extension of the dream she’d been having? She knew he’d featured in it prominently, though she couldn’t remember any details save for a general feeling of warmth and contentment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola groaned in frustration and clamped one of her pillows over her face. She needed to sleep. She needed to focus, and be at her best in the morning. She certainly didn’t need to be lying here having waking dreams about Marchion Ro.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nevertheless, as she finally let sleep claim her, she drifted off wondering whether she’d truly felt his palm gently cupping her cheek.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mere moments after she’d shut her eyes, a searing brightness woke her. Her lids felt heavy. She struggled to open them as though they’d been pasted shut. Once she managed, she cursed whatever fool had invented automated lighting. Or, really lighting in general. Surely it had to be illegal to subject a person to this absurd level of brightness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re up,” she heard Oora say. Or rather shout. Was she always so loud?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ugh.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Eye sent me to fetch you, he’s been waiting for hours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hours?” Sola mumbled. “ ’S been 10 minutes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“8 hours actually,” Oora said. “And he’s getting restless.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eight hours?” Sola sat up quickly and regretted it immediately. The bunk swayed around her precariously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To be honest, I would have found you sooner, but…” Oora looked away quickly. She busied herself making her bed, which had not been slept in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But?” Sola croaked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well…this wasn’t the first place I looked, and…” she sighed, “It took a while to get back here from Garran’s quarters.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You went to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Garran’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> quarters first?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You weren’t with Marchion,” Oora shrugged. “And I know </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>wasn’t in the mood to be alone last night, so I figured-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Rodian let the insinuation hang. In truth, if Marchion’s orders hadn’t torn them apart in the corridor, Garran’s quarters probably would have been the best place to find Sola. If she hadn’t been so exhausted and nauseous on arriving back to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gaze Electric</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she would have gone straight there anyway. She told Oora as much, leaning against the bulkhead that substituted for a headboard, one hand covering her eyes against the burn of the light. The Rodian responded by humming non-committaly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s in the cockpit, whenever you’re ready,” Oora said, slipping out of the bunk, leaving Sola to her own devices once more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She peeled off Irami’s top, which had somehow become even more clingy in the night and instead donned the looser shirt she’d worn prior. In the fresher, she washed her face again, and did her best to brush through her curls with her fingers. Neither Oora nor Irami had any hair, and they’d so far been unable to locate a comb or brush for Sola. She deftly braided her dark hair and let it fall down her back. Examining her reflection once more, she saw the marks that Garran left on her neck had become darker and more pronounced against her tan skin. The spot Marchion had gripped so tightly was not similarly bruised, though she could just make out the faint outline of fingers wrapping around her forearm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though still too bright for her liking, the rest of the ship mercifully quiet. The crew was still sleeping off their exertions from the night before. The only sounds were the echoing of her footsteps down the interminable corridors. The further she walked, the more she felt like herself, apart from a throbbing headache the likes of which she’d never experienced before. It was a blessing to step into the cockpit, the dimness allowing her to open her eyes properly for the first time since she woke up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s about time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola started at the sound of Marchion’s voice. She’d known he was here, but she hadn’t expected him to be standing so close to the door. He wore one of his masks, simpler than the one he’d worn the night before. But the message was clear. Whatever guards that might have fallen between the two of them over the last two days was firmly back in place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wasn’t aware I had a set start time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were supposed to start last night, if you recall. I grow tired of waiting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps I might have started last night, if your piloting skills hadn’t made me sick to my stomach.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Indeed? My piloting skills were solely to blame?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not solely, but at least in part,” she said, knowing she was being difficult on purpose, but wholly unable to stop herself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that so? We ought to discuss this further. Perhaps with the overhead lights on, that I might see you better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He reached out for a nearby wall panel. Sola’s hands shot out and wrapped around his wrist, her fingers digging into the leather and fur vambrace he wore with all her might.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No! Wait.” The light would almost certainly burn her retinas irreparably. Or make her head explode. Neither was a desirable option.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmmm,” he said, sounding amused. “I thought so. One hour, Sola. I want a Path in one hour.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One hour?” she asked in alarm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Indeed. I’m eager to put our newest Tempest Runner to the test.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her hand reflexively reached up to brush against the marks Garran had left on her the night before. She pulled her braid over her shoulder and let it drape down that side of her body, obscuring them at least partially from view.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The destination?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve uploaded the coordinates. Do you require assistance with the restraints on the navigational pod?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um. No, thank you. I can manage from here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With that final, ominous pronouncement, Marchion swept out of the cockpit. Sola collapsed against the wall in relief. She’d begun to think he would wait around to watch her produce her miraculous results, as his old navigator had done. Once her heart stopped racing and she gathered her wits about her once more, she peeled herself off the wall and went to consult the computer terminal by her navigation pod. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was there that she encountered an unexpected sight. Beside the pod, on an empty stretch of the control panel sat a handful of items: a cup of water, two small tablets, a bun and a sealed canister. She cast her eyes around the cockpit, checking each chair with an exaggerated level of care, in case the items belonged to another. But no. She was the only one here. She picked up the tablets and inspected them, recognizing them at once for what they were. She popped both in her mouth and gulped down the water, praying that relief for her aching head would soon follow. She picked at the bun and opened the canister, her curiosity piqued. Steam rose into the air as she removed the lid, followed at once by an aroma that made her knees grow weak. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Caf. Someone had left her a full mug of caf. And not the stale, poor quality kind that she’d grown used to on Cyone. This was dark and fragrant and rich, the kind she hadn’t had since her university days on Coruscant. She sipped it and barely suppressed a groan of pure pleasure. She would have to thank Oora and Irami for leaving this here for her. For indeed, it had to have been them. Unless of course it was Garran? The only other person who knew to look for her here was Marchion, and he’d seemed less than impressed with her, certainly in no kind of humour to bring her a cure for what was shaping up to be the worst hangover she’d ever had. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She set down the canister and turned to the computer terminal. She’d wasted enough time as it was. From what he’d said to her, it was clear Marchion felt she ought to conduct all her work out of the pod, but she wasn’t entirely sure how. Navigation in the heat of the moment, sure. Piloting, absolutely. But calculations? Those, she needed space to figure out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In truth, what she needed was direct access to the former navigator, time to examine all the old Paths to determine a pattern, and time in which to experiment with any new Paths she came up with. But she had none of that. She had 60 standard minutes. Or rather 55 now. If only she hadn’t lingered over the caf for so long. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pulled out her data pad, and spend several crucial minutes fruitlessly trying to absorb the vast quantities of data contained within. It went as disastrously as she might have expected. This was impossible. Panic began to well in her chest. This felt much like that age old nightmare of entering the university exam hall thoroughly unprepared for the test ahead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m eager to put our newest Tempest Runner to the test</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola gasped with sudden realization. The Path was not for Marchion himself, but for Garran, who as far as she could reasonably guess, had never led a mission using a Path. She engaged the data pad once more, prepared to do something she had never done before in all her years as an academic. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola cheated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She ran a search among the old data for the current coordinates Marchion requested. The search yielded nothing specific. The Nihil had never travelled to that particular point in space. Casting the parameters wider, she found a nearby exit point. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Close enough</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thought. She drew on what she remembered from her lectures - stars, it felt like a lifetime ago - consciously fighting the urge to chart a course along known routes, and instead plotting a path around the absence of obstacles like a meandering path taken through a busy marketplace. Each bend in the Path was precise, down to an almost microscopic measurement. Not impossible to pilot at sublight. But at lightspeed? The slightest error would be catastrophic. The crew would have to trust the piloting entirely to the Path engine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She fell into a kind of trance as she worked, lost in a cloud of numbers, charts and possibilities. She was just fervently wishing she had a laboratory in which to test her findings when the comms inside the pod blipped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Time’s up,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Marchion’s voice said ominously. She blinked twice to snap herself out of her trance, and studied her final results. It would have to do,  even if it was merely a variation on an old design. Half the calculations had already been made for her, and she’d just adjusted where needed. She input the information into the computer and redirected it to the holotable in his ready room. The seconds ticked by slowly, as she waited for Marchion’s reply. At long, </span>
  <em>
    <span>long</span>
  </em>
  <span> last, a reply crackled through the comms once more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Acknowledged. Go freshen up if you wish, return in 3 standard hours.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The comms clicked off before she could reply. Not waiting to be granted any further permission, Sola snatched up her half-full mug of caf and scrambled out of her seat. She felt invigorated. Her first Path had been a success - though perhaps a dishonest one - and her headache had faded. She hadn’t had cause to use her education in some time, and it felt good to do so once more. She bounded back through the corridors and to her quarters with a spring in her step. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oora wasn’t around when she arrived, no doubt having either returned to Irami’s waiting arms or else out on assignment. Perhaps both. In any case, now that she had privacy, Sola downed the last of her caf, determined to take a shower and wash the almost medical smell of spotchka out of her hair. Her plans were interrupted by a chime. She slid the door open and found Garran standing on the other side, dressed in full Nihil regalia. His clothing was utilitarian and weathered, a belt slung over his shoulder bore his blaster, as well as other tools that might make his work easier. He carried a brand new helmet under his arm, the paint so fresh it was gleaming.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There you are,” he grinned. “I wondered where you got to last night.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry,” she said, motioning for him to come in and closing the door behind him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that Core World caf I smell?” he asked, picking up the canister from the table she’d set it on and inhaling. “Where did you find this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t leave it for me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t have this kind of access,” he said, setting it back down and eyeing her with raised brows. “Anyway, back to the point, what happened to you last night?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“After Marchion- that is, after the Eye summoned me back to the hall, I was too tired to do much else, I just came right back here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She cringed at her casual use of Marchion’s name. It didn’t strike her as the kind of thing a hostage might do. Unfortunately, this did not go missed by Garran.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me,” he said, “what is it that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Marchion</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanted with you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing, it was- it was nothing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, Sola. He wouldn’t summon you back to the Great Hall over </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span>, would he?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was- he wanted to-information. He wanted information,” she said at last, settling on something that was close enough to the truth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To do with what?” Garran was getting close now, his frame filling her field of vision.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My- my family. Just in case they come looking for me, he-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Garran lay his hands on Sola’s hips. She went breathless at the contact.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think you’re lying Sola,” he breathed in her ear. She squeaked, a trickle of fear running down her spine. She would really have to work on this story before it came up again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lying?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think,” he said, kissing her jaw, “that the Eye brought you here for his own purposes, and he isn’t willing to share.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She planted her hands on his chest and pushed him back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> here to be used by the Eye at his discretion,” she said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course not,” he said. He took her hands in his and squeezed them. “He sent us to fetch you directly from Cyone. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> specifically. I can’t help but wonder why.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola said nothing. Her mouth had gone dry. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But that doesn’t mean he hasn’t thought about taking you for his own. Look at you, how could he not?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola’s heart beat faster, a flush of pleasure rising to her cheeks at the idea of Marchion wanting her, followed immediately by a sinking shame that her first thought hadn’t been for the man holding her hands now. Garran, however, seemed to have wholly misunderstood the warring thoughts dancing across her face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulled her close once again and kissed her deeply. She let herself relax into it, fortunate for the reminder to focus on what she had and not what her fantasies made her believe she wanted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You would tell me if he wanted something of you, right?” Garran whispered against the corner of her mouth. “You know you can trust me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm,” Sola replied, her arms wrapping around Garran’s shoulders, drawing him in for another kiss. Anything to keep him from asking more questions, and besides, she quite liked kissing him. It was a nice feeling, to be wanted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Garran pushed her back against the wall and let his lips travel down to her neck, where they immediately set to work giving her new marks to accompany the older, more pronounced ones. One of his legs slid between her legs again, as it had the night before, effectively pinning her in place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His knee brushed against the apex of Sola’s thighs, and she felt a jolt shoot through her body. It dawned on her that the feeling was not wholly unlike what she’d felt in the pod when Marchion had demonstrated his preferred type of punishment for navigators. Before she could dwell much longer, Garran pressed his thigh up against her sex again as he mouther at her neck, the increased pressure drawing a small, hesitant sigh from Sola. She tentatively rolled her hips, seeking more friction, and was gratified to feel the same, delicious jolt throughout her body. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d brought herself to climax before. She was not wholly unfamiliar with the response her body was having. But to have a second participant? One who seemed at least somewhat invested in her pleasure, as Garran was? That was new. Aurel had never cared. She continued to grind down on his thigh while he left small marks all over her neck, which would now be impossible to conceal. The space between her legs grew damper, and small hums of pleasure rumbled in her throat, struggling to escape from behind her lips, which she kept firmly clamped shut. It felt good, but she couldn’t feel herself building to anything. She rubbed against his leg more insistently, and Garran took the hint. He lowered one of his hands to rest between them, pressing a single digit between Sola’s folds. He didn’t move his hand, but let her use the added pressure against her bud to push herself closer to climax. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s my girl,” he muttered into her skin. She gasped out loud. “You like this, baby?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Far from protesting that at 30 years old, she was far from being a ‘baby’, Sola just keened.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“More,” she whispered. “Please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola felt herself clench once around nothing, and dug her fingers into Garran’s back, letting her body relax into the mounting sensation. He drew small circles against her as she panted quietly. She held onto him firmly as she crested gently, praying her body wouldn’t twitch in the awkward way it sometimes did when she did this alone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The aftershocks ebbed quickly and she leaned against the wall, breathing hard. He planted a final kiss at the corner of her open mouth, and gathered his belongings from where he’d left them on the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are you going?” Sola asked, her breath still coming in hard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Eye has seen fit to grant me a Path. I leave immediately.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So then what-” she gestured at the space between them. “What was this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Garran smiled that crooked, irresistible smile of his.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This was something to remember me by.” He kissed her forehead again. “Something to hang on to when someone else steals you away.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He left her alone and pressed against the wall. She slid down to the ground, unable to stand any longer and rested her head in her hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Garran clearly suspected she was on the ship for a specific reason, beyond that of a mere hostage. He also thought she was on the verge of being taken away by Marchion. If only he knew how willingly she would go.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh Garran.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Tell me, Sola,” he breathed. “Does he ever do anything like this for you? Make you feel like this?”</p>
<p>He was still holding her chin. There was nowhere for her to avert her gaze, nothing to do but answer his question. </p>
<p>“No,” she said so quietly it would have been lost entirely if the cockpit weren’t deathly silent.</p>
<p>“A pity,” he scoffed, still just as quietly. “Then again, perhaps not.”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“You’re certain?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As certain as I can be, yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion’s hands dug into the armrests on his throne, his knuckles jutting out against the skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Since when?” he asked, careful to keep the note of jealousy out of his question. After all, that </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> why he wanted the information. It wasn’t like that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Since the night he was made Tempest Runner,” Oora replied quietly. Marchion was grateful for his mask, that the rage written so plainly on his face was invisible to the two Storms before him now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So long?” His voice was barely more than a whisper, but it still reverberated through the room like thunder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why does it matter?” Irami interjected at last. Marchion had seen her growing more and more restless while Oora gave her report, and clearly she could take it no longer. Oora whipped around to face her partner.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Irami!” Oora said in horrified tones.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No! He asked us to keep an eye out for signs of treachery from Sola, attempts to escape or prompt her rescue. Do you see any?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He didn’t ask </span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he asked </span>
  <em>
    <span>me.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Oora hissed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Irami took a step back, her expression wounded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you see any cause for concern?” Irami bit out. “Honestly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Do you think I </span>
  <em>
    <span>enjoy </span>
  </em>
  <span>this?” she hissed in reply. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m starting to think you might.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Enough</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His voice was nowhere as loud as theirs had become. But such was the power of the Eye, that both fell silent at once. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Irami,” he said. “I have assigned a task to Oora in exchange for her promotion to Storm. I suggest you do not attempt to dissuade her from fulfilling the terms of our bargain.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And how long is she to be beholden to you, then? Until you tire of your obsession with the human girl?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oora’s starry eyes grew even wider.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Careful Irami. I appreciate your candor but I will not tolerate insubordination.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oora rushed over to lay soothing hands on her partner, murmuring quietly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you, Oora?” Marchion continued. “Does she speak for you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Rodian looked between the two of them, between the vivid eyes of her love and the concealed ones of her employer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” she said at last. “She does not.” Irami looked furious, until Oora clamped down harder on her arm. “I am grateful for every opportunity afforded to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion sat back in his seat, satisfied. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“However,” she continued. “I will say that I am uneasy reporting on someone I consider a friend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A friend?” Marchion asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not uneasy enough to stop, apparently,” Irami muttered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t start again, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> why-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Enough of this,” Marchion said. “You’re both dismissed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Storms inclined their heads in respect, and retreated from the ready room. He’d begun sending Garran away with increasing frequency once Oora had told him of the relationship his newest Tempest Runner was forming with his navigator. He told himself it was to keep his secret safe, and if it kept his jealousy at bay, that the unworthy Garran should have Sola when he could not, so much the better. But it was drawing suspicion from Pan and from Lourna in particular. It would have been easy enough to explain away if Garran’s yields had not been quite so lacking. Anything he brought back to No Space, be it cargo, ships, or supplies, was far below what Marchion had come to expect from those in command among the Nihil.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was because he needed answers - and most decidedly </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> because he simply wanted to see her again - that Marchion activated his comm, and called Sola.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He waited for a moment, and heard no reply. Perhaps she hadn’t heard him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sola,” he tried again. Still nothing. An unpleasant sensation curled in his chest, jealousy and anger. What if she was with </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sola!” he snapped. His patience was lost. He had half a mind to head to her quarters himself and check when-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her voice sounded different. Higher, almost breathless. He keyed on the comm to reply, his mind conjuring up a thousand reasons why she might sound the way she did, refusing to allow it to settle on the most obvious - and most likely. That she was with Garran as they spoke. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Swallowing down the biting anger that threatened to claw its way out of him, he simply replied: “My ready room. Now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are you going?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That had become Sola’s standard refrain over the last two weeks, in the handful of times she and Garran had managed to be alone together. The first time, she’d genuinely wanted to know, too. What could be so pressing that he felt the need to tear himself from her side mere moments after reaching his climax, groaning in her ear about how he couldn’t get enough of her. Now, when she asked, it was out of irritation. She was beginning to feel rather used. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Miss me already?” Garran asked, sliding out of bed and pulling his pants on in the semi-darkness of her bunk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola hummed and allowed the corners of her mouth to twitch up, but otherwise did not speak. She lifted herself slightly, so that her back pressed against the bulkhead at the top of her bed, and adjusted the straps of her breastband, which had fallen down her shoulders at some point thanks to Garran’s wandering hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just wonder what’s so important that you never feel the need to stay very long.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was, admittedly a little more annoyed than she usually was. She had been so close to climaxing, and was about to take matters into her own hands when Garran had reached his own peak with a final thrust of his hips and didn’t seem particularly concerned about whether or not she was satisfied. This also wasn’t the first time it had happened either. She regretted engaging him in conversation, now finding she was rather eager for him to leave so she could set about unwinding the tight coil of desire that still lingered within her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, baby,” Garran said, sitting back down beside her on the bed. She fought the urge to groan. “The Eye has another Path for me, and I can’t refuse, I’m still proving myself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of all the nonsense. She hadn’t produced anything for Marchion in hours, and she knew for a fact those had gone to Lourna and Pan. Sola scoffed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please don’t lie to me, Garran.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He raised an eyebrow. Too late, she realized her mistake. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What makes you think I’m lying?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you know about the Paths, Sola?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She fought to throw her walls back up. Not an easy feat when she was half-naked and feeling very vulnerable. This wasn’t the first time Garran had asked her leading questions like this, suspecting she knew more than she was leading on, but it was the closest he’d ever been to getting an answer from her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your comm. It’s been quiet this whole time,” she said quickly. “How do you know The Eye has anything for you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiled at her, that same smile she’d once found charming but in this moment started to feel grating. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we? You’ll be here when I return?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where else would I be?” Sola asked, tersely, wondering if she was strong enough to push him out of the room faster. The ache between her legs was growing more and more insistent. Fortunately, Garran rose from the bed then. She watched as he finished dressing, and even managed to conjure up something like a smile when he blew her a kiss from the doorway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She waited for several, interminable seconds, her ears straining to make sure no one was about to enter the room. Satisfied that she was alone for the time being, Sola wasted no more time, and slid a hand between her legs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The moan she let out was thoroughly indecent, but she was long past the point of caring. Her body, which had gone tense during her conversation with Garran, began to relax at her touch. She shut her eyes and brushed her fingers against her clit, letting her imagination wander with the vague shapeless images she usually imagined when bringing herself to climax. She fought to keep her conversation with Garran out of her head, how it had circled around, as it always did, to The Eye.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gasped out loud as a jolt of pleasure rocked her body at the thought of Marchion. She ought to fight this. All it was doing was setting her up for disappointment when she saw him again later, this man she wanted but couldn’t have. He was terrifying, imposing, powerful. Yet so calm and measured when he spoke to her. She sighed deeply, smiling at the memory, as another wave of pleasure rocked her hips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d been so distant since the night in the Great Hall, shattering any illusions she’d had of him softening up for her. But then she remembered the sound of his voice as he woke her, the sensation of his hand on her cheek. She moaned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Sola thought. She let her imagination focus solely on Marchion. On what his large hand had felt like wrapped around her arm, his fingers pressing into her skin. What might they feel like when touching her more intimately? She sank two of her own fingers into her core, imagining they were his. She imagined him bracing himself above her now, supported by one of his muscular arms. She teased herself to images of him pressing his lips along her jaw, capturing her mouth as she let out cry after cry of ecstasy. Of how he would whisper her name as he brought her closer to climax.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sola</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was so lost in her daydream, she could swear she was really hearing him. She moaned in response to the imaginary voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sola</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he called again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Marchion,” she whispered to the empty room. She increased the speed and pressure of her fingers until the dam broke and she came with a small gasp. She rode out her orgasm with gentle stokes, then finally, gingerly removed her hand from the sticky mess Garran - and now she, herself - had made between her legs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sola!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sat bolt upright. She hadn’t been imagining his voice after all, she realized in horror, as she finally noticed the blinking light on her comm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes?” she said, answering the hail in a far breathier tone than she would have liked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He left the line open, but said nothing for a moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My ready room,” he ordered, finally. “Now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The door of the ready room slid open and Sola slipped inside, illuminated by the light of the holotable. She wore her usual tunic, leggings and jacket, muted and shapeless things that were a far cry from what she’d worn that night in the Great Hall. The night he’d nearly let his jealousy get the better of him. She’d looked so bright and lively that night, had celebrated with abandon, and he longed to form even a small part of her joy. Instead, it was his newest Tempest Runner who had that pleasure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Who had been having that pleasure regularly for some time, if Oora’s report was accurate. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rather than immediately reporting to him Sola paused and glanced quickly around the room. She laughed softly to herself, and shook her head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Something amiss?” Marchion asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I just thought that Garran might-” she stopped short and pressed her lips together before changing the subject quickly. “You wanted to see me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What kept you?” he countered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her face flushed a deep crimson and she averted her gaze. Her eyes, he’d noticed, were shining a little brighter than they usually did and he could only guess at the reason.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t hear you,” she offered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You misplaced your comm?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No I was…I was preoccupied,” she breathed, flushing deeper and confirming what he’d suspected. He’d wanted to attribute the breathiness in her voice and the look in her eye on any number of things rather than what he knew to be true - that she was currently coming down from the throes of ecstasy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wonder why you came in here looking for Garran, then, if the two of you were already together,” he said before he could stop himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How did you-?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s irrelevant. I’ve told you before where your responsibilities lie, Sola, and if you find yourself incapable of attending to them because of Garran then-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was late answering one hail, Marchion!” she snapped. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if it had been critical?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It clearly isn’t if you see fit to interrogate me yet again.” Her voice increased in volume. “I made it clear to you that night that my personal life is not subject to your approval.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I made it clear what my expectations are for those who serve me.”He stood from his throne and leapt down from the platform, making Sola jump at the sound. “Like it or not, your life and your time are mine first and foremost.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola looked as though she’d been slapped. Her eyes no longer glittered, but now blazed with a thus far unseen fury that burned all the brighter, the closer he got to her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not yours,” she bit out as her face tilted up to his. “My life and my time belong to </span>
  <em>
    <span>no one</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And your heart, Sola?” he asked, his voice dropping. “Who does that belong to?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t help himself. He expected her to fling Garran’s name in his face, and knew it would hurt when she did. But rather than the retort he expected for so insolent a question, Sola simply looked at him. His face was concealed from her behind a mask, yet she managed to find his eyes anyway. A war raged on her face - anger, surprise, and inexplicably sadness. Bt she said nothing. The holotable blipped loudly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sola,” Marchion said. “What do you know of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Legacy Run</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I-what?” she asked, looking completely thrown at the sudden change of subject. He moved away from her and stood at his holotable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Legacy Run</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he said again in as calm a voice as he could manage, as though he had not just been standing within inches of her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, the- the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Legacy Run</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Yes. Right.” Sola joined him at the holotable, making sure to stand as far away from him as possible. “The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Legacy Run</span>
  </em>
  <span> was a ship that was destroyed in hyperspace, the pieces of which are still appearing at random intervals and high destructive velocity all across the Outer Rim.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very good,” he said. “Has any debris ever struck Cyone?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A couple of near misses,” she said. “We even evacuated once, my husband and I. But no, it never struck.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah yes. And your family. I imagine the incident was quite detrimental for them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm. Why do you ask about the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Legacy Run?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she asked quickly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion noted that this was not the first time she’d avoided talking about her family, setting her apart from Aurel, who had been incapable of </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> mentioning their might and influence. Even Mari had thought along similar lines when she was younger, though that stopped as her mind began to go. But Sola never brought them up. Perhaps her husband had distanced her from them, from her true purpose in the galaxy’s foremost navigational dynasty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The instances of falling debris have come to be known as ‘Emergences’,” he said. She nodded in recognition. “And though they are destructive, they are not as random as they seem.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?” She had that look again, the look of academic curiosity. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You seem surprised. Did you not once tell me that you believed nothing to be random?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I did.” After a moment she quietly added, “I’m surprised you remember.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If only she knew how he committed each of their conversations to memory. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Has someone calculated their trajectory?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Republic, actually,” he scoffed. “We’ve obtained an incomplete record of their findings, and there is due to be another in this sector in three hours time.” He indicated one quadrant on the map.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you want a Path to get there,” she finished.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. But I also would like for you to complete the record. It won’t do for them to have the information and for us to remain in the dark.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow,” she breathed, barely paying attention to him now. Her eyes were scanning every inch of the incomplete data, her fingers twitching with a suppressed urge to begin work on it immediately, as she circled the table, lost in contemplation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sola,” he said sharply. “Path first.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Path first,” she repeated mechanically. She was dangerously close to him now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door slid open once more, and he shut off the table when he saw who had joined them. The spell broken, Sola stumbled at the jarring change and sudden darkness and collided with Marchion. His arm shot around her automatically to steady her. Her warm palms planted on his arms, fingertips pressing ever so slightly into his skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Am I interrupting something?” Garran asked, a wry note in his voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Garran,” Sola squeaked. She let go of Marchion’s arm at once and stepped back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not at all,” Marchion said, “we were merely conversing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see,” Garran said, eyebrows raised in Sola’s direction. “Is that all, baby?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The atmosphere turned awkward very quickly as Sola looked at the floor. Her cheeks had gone pink and she seemed to be willing the colour to fade. At last she met the Mirialan’s eye.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. That’s all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh,” he said, incredulously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion was in no mood for this. As if it weren’t enough that this man had Sola, he also had the audacity to question what he had been so willingly given. He fought the urge to shoot the ungrateful Tempest Runner where he stood. Instead, he decided to smooth matters over, if only to make things easier.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I assure you, Garran. She is nothing to me. Her heart is yours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d been prepared for any number of reactions, but the wounded expression on his navigator’s face was not one of them. She swallowed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Am I dismissed?” she asked him in an expressionless tone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. As for you, Garran. Prepare your ships. I will deliver you a new Path in </span>
  <em>
    <span>one hour</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he said, stressing the time constraint for Sola’s benefit. She nodded almost imperceptibly from the door, though she now wouldn’t look at him. Garran for his part puffed up his chest and thanked Marchion profusely, sweeping out of the room with a large amount of unnecessary confidence considering his substandard performance of late.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion switched the holotable back on, if only to have something to do. He was extremely confused at Sola’s reaction. Though she hadn’t wanted his permission, he’d granted it anyway. It had been necessary, he reasoned, to preserve the peace on board the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gaze Electric</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Though if he were honest with himself, that hadn’t been his only reason for saying what he had. He’d said it to make her feel more at ease around him, even though the lie killed him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was far from nothing in his eyes. And his own heart was in very real danger of becoming hers entirely.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She is nothing to me</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frankly, Sola didn’t know what she’d expected.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She knew she was just setting herself up for disappointment, yet she still let herself fantasize about him. Imagining a softness in him, some idea that he might see her as more than a convenient navigator. Touching herself to thoughts of him. Occasionally thinking of him when she was with Garran too, though that at least she resisted since it seemed disrespectful to the one she was actually with, never mind what Garran’s own intentions with her might be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>None of this should have come as a surprise. And yet five simple words left her absolutely reeling. Another voice rang through her ears, one she’d known for years, nearly her entire adult life. And a memory, as visceral and painful now as it had been then.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, that?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
  <em>
    <span> Aurel had sneered as he and his latest mistress passed by her in the gardens of their home, their eyes raking over her with barely concealed indifference. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s no one. Nothing to concern yourself with, my dear.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was different this time, of course. She and Aurel hadn’t been married long then, but long enough that she’d come to rely on him and his presence somewhat to quell the loneliness of being so far away from everything familiar. Marchion too, was her beacon of familiarity in this strange new world of the Nihil, but she hardly knew him at all. If she was nothing to him, there was certainly no reason for him to be anything to her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it still hurt to hear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was thankful, then, for the task he’d set her. Back on Cyone, there had been nothing to regularly distract her from Aurel’s faithlessness, but here she had purpose. A task. Something to keep her mind occupied. Over the last two weeks, she’d continued to work through her Path detection system. The process was still time-consuming. She could generally produce a single Path in ninety minutes, sixty if necessary, but at least the calculation process was consistent and she could count on it. Just about the only thing she </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> count on. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She settled into the pod, not bothering with the restraints, and worked steadily for nearly an hour, fighting to keep Marchion’s dismissal out of her head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She is nothing to me</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wouldn’t have been so bad if his next statement hadn’t been so patently false. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Her heart is yours.</span>
  </em>
  <span> If she hadn’t been so taken aback by his earlier words, would she have spoken up? Told Marchion that he was wrong, that she in no way belonged to anyone - heart included. She didn’t love Garran. She didn’t even love Marchion. At least she didn’t think she did. But she </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> attracted to him. There was a certain fascination there, in the quiet authority he held over the Nihil, in the brutal, efficient way he made decisions. There was the violence of it all: the way he’d shot that Quarren at point blank range and spent hours presiding over the proceedings still covered in blood. It wasn’t that she found that alluring. It was more intriguing. All part of the enigma that was Marchion Ro. Because for all that, he wasn’t heartless. He did, after all, treat her with more civility than she would have expected from a Nihil leader. A civility that she’d mistaken for outright kindness, but at least she was wiser now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still. There was nothing Sola loved like a puzzle to solve, and he was the biggest one on board and wholly out of her reach. After all, she was nothing to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, not exactly nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thought bitterly, as she heard the door of the cockpit open behind the pod. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Time’s up, Sola,” he said, in a tone far too casual for the turmoil churning within her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just sent it to your holotable,” she replied, fighting to keep the hurt from her voice. “I didn’t know you would be coming here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Since the night she’d flown them to the Great Hall, he only came in to the cockpit twice, and both times was to provide her coordinates for short-range sublight travel. He must finally have a destination for her to pilot to, which would be a welcome change from the void in which they’d been lingering.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can access the holotable data from here.” He indicated the nearby terminal that would have been used by a navigator in normal circumstances. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine, I can reroute it to that terminal directly,” she said, not waiting for his reply before doing it anyway. It took only moments after that for him to send it to Garran.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Give it a few minutes,” Marchion said, “and then I want you to follow him. Using the same Path.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You…want me to pilot a Path?” she asked, her heart stopping in her chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that a problem?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, of course not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was true in theory, at least. How different could it be from any other kind of piloting?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sola?” Marchion said, with an unidentifiable edge in his voice. “Why are the pod restraints open?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She glanced down. She’d been using the pod as a workstation for weeks, but never bothered with the restraints. They weren’t easy to fasten alone, and in any case she couldn’t see the point. She told Marchion as much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s dangerous!” he said, crossing to her in two long strides. He knelt at her booted ankles and hooked them into their restraints. She glared down at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is? You’ve barely explained the function of this pod beyond-” she cut herself off as his masked face turned up towards her. Suspicion radiated off of him, though she couldn’t place her finger on why. She would have to choose her next words carefully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are all Nihil ships similarly outfitted?” she asked tentatively.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” he said, his voice low. “Because this is the only ship to have a navigator on board.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rose from his crouch and ran his hands along her waist, his fingers leaving sparks in their wake. </span>
</p>
<p><em><span>It’s just for the restraint</span></em><span>, she admonished herself. </span><em><span>Nothing more.</span></em> <em><span>I am nothing to him.</span></em></p>
<p>
  <span>He fixed the metallic plate against her collarbone and stepped away marginally, his hand braced on the top of the pod. Dangerously close to the button that delivered jolts of electricity to the occupant. She braced herself, her breath caught in her throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion depressed the button. A single pulse only, but enough for Sola’s body to register all the same.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When I tell you to do something,” he said, punctuating his words with short bursts, “when it concerns the work you do for me, I expect it done.” He jolted her again, this time for slightly longer than before. “Is that clear?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Sola panted. “Doing this to me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion relinquished the button and tilted Sola’s chin upwards to look at him directly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“By the looks of things, you’re enjoying this too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She inhaled sharply and blushed. This man, who was so clueless when it came to her affections, had taken one look at her and accurately deduced the strange sensation blooming within her. Her heart was racing, and she suspected her eyes must have glazed over with arousal if the throbbing between her legs was any indication. If this was going to be a more frequently employed method of punishment, this was a very inconvenient side effect.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me, Sola,” he breathed. “Does </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> ever do anything like this for you? Make you feel like this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was still holding her chin. There was nowhere for her to avert her gaze, nothing to do but answer his question. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” she said so quietly it would have been lost entirely if the cockpit weren’t deathly silent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A pity,” he scoffed, still just as quietly. “Then again, perhaps not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What he meant, she couldn’t even begin to imagine. Nor did she have much time to dwell on it. He relinquished his hold on her and stepped to the side, closing the door of the pod to grant her access to the controls.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Path,” he ordered. “Now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola engaged the Path engine and input the data. She slowly brought the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gaze Electric</span>
  </em>
  <span> around, building just enough momentum to properly make the leap into the Path. It required far less velocity than hyperspace did. In theory it required none at all, but the notion made her uncomfortable. Nevertheless, once the colossal ship was in motion, she pulled the small lever that under normal circumstances would take them into hyperspace, and dropped them into the Path. She expected to be at once surrounded by the familiar blue and white swirls of the routes charted by Aurel’s family. What she saw instead was something altogether more breathtaking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ship was surrounded by a rainbow of light, a veritable kaleidoscope of colours that swirled about with seemingly no rhyme or reason. She always maintained that nothing was ever truly random, but this just might be the exception. There was simply no explaining this</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She let herself fall into an almost rhythmic trance, following the route she herself had set through each of its twists and turns. She idly wondered what it would be like to  pilot a smaller craft through a Path. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gaze Electric</span>
  </em>
  <span> was so large, she could barely feel the movement of the ship, even though the route was unconventional. But in a small one or two person ship? The idea of the thrill made her laugh with mirth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And if the small craft she pictured happened to be Marchion’s? Well, she just wouldn’t allow herself to dwell on that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She lost track of how long she piloted through the Path, and before she realized it, the Engine blipped, warning her to drop out of the Path, as she approached the end of her calculated trajectory. She did so, and was immediately horrified at the scene before her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Carnage. Absolute carnage. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nihil craft swarmed the few Republic vessels, who tried in vain to fight them off. Dotted among the Republic craft were smaller, older vessels as well. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Civilians</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she realized with a sickening twist of her stomach. Debris floated throughout the void. Machine parts, mostly, by the looks of things. Then Sola spotted a human-shaped figure floating out among the destruction and refused to look any closer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She flailed against her restraints and pounded against the door. Her fingers found the latch to the door in the semi-darkness of the cockpit and she flung the lid open. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a little more room to manoeuvre, she removed the plate from her collar, and undid the fastening at her waist. Freeing her ankles took a little more work, and when she’d finished, she stumbled out of the pod rather ungracefully. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion stood before the viewport, watching the destruction unfolding. His face was unreadable behind his mask, but he didn’t appear to be distressed by anything he was seeing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Marchion,” Sola croaked. “What have you done?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I require two more Paths,” he said abruptly, as though she hadn’t spoken. “Both to this location. Immediately, before they think to call for backup.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola glanced about at the carnage that surrounded them. The ships in pieces, Garran’s Tempest attacking them like carrion predators. Had this been what she was facilitating all along? The thought made her sick. Her legs were already weak from standing in the pod so long, and now they threatened to give in altogether. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What was that?” he asked in a low and dangerous tone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. I won’t- I won’t help you do this.” She pointed out the viewport at the destruction. “I want no part of it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you fail to be of use to me, there will be consequences.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like what, you’ll electrocute me again?” she snapped. But as she spoke, a far grimmer possibility occurred to her, the suspicion confirmed at once by Marchion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think you’ve realized it’ll go beyond that now. You know too much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola drew herself up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So do it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sola, you realize I am talking about-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re going to kill me. Yes. I expected no less from the Nihil, after all. It’s what you do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Last chance, Sola,” he growled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> it,” she spat. “Just do it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion didn’t move. Sola was taken aback. She’d seen him shoot a far more valuable Nihil over far less, so why the hesitation now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pak,” he called into his comlink. “Our guest needs an escort.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where to, Marchion?” Pak replied.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The brig.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It occurs to me that I haven't given due credit to my beta readers so let me just take this moment to thank them from the bottom of my heart for being amazing human beings who motivate me and keep me going &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“It’s just Sola said that the two of you-” he let it hang and turned his gaze directly onto Marchion’s. “Well, never mind all that. That’s a conversation you and I can have another time. Perhaps once we’ve concluded our business here.”</p>
<p>“What exactly did Sola say?” Marchion hissed.</p>
<p>“Don’t worry, Marchion. Your secret is safe with me.”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Marchion sat on his throne, far removed from the clashing ships outside, fighting to keep himself under control. Things would spiral now, there was no getting around it. And if they weren’t clear of this sector soon, things were about to get much, much worse. Of all the inconvenient times for her to have </span>
  <em>
    <span>ethical concerns</span>
  </em>
  <span> of all things. It had all gone so wrong, so fast, and what he couldn’t understand was </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>How </span>
  </em>
  <span>could she be so naive? What did she think she did for him, with all her calculations and numbers. What did she think it was for? She knew what the Nihil were, what they meant to the galaxy at large. She’d had no illusions about that when she was first brought on board, expecting him to strike her down where she stood. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Just as she expected me to do now</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought bitterly. That went a long way to cooling the rage that burned within him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d never had an issue striking down a subordinate before. Particularly the defiant ones who would contradict him as soon as breathe. Logically, she should have met the same fate as the others. So why stay his hand? Because he needed her still and hoped she would see reason? Because he desired her? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I expected no less from the Nihil after all. It’s what you do</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No. Because she’d seen him for exactly what he was, and hurled it in his face like an accusation. There was truth in her statement. Since the days of his father, this was what the Nihil had become. Methods that were unapologetic became “ruthless”. Good, honest piracy became “the scourge of the Outer Rim”. A band of barely organized raiders had become a force to be reckoned with. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And in the eyes of one navigator, a cold, distant leader had suddenly become a cold-blooded killer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though perhaps not so suddenly. The night he’d killed Vossek, and held court the rest of the evening covered in the Quarren’s blood, it hadn’t frightened her away. In fact, if he recalled correctly, she’d even seemed to </span>
  <em>
    <span>like </span>
  </em>
  <span>it. Had let her fingers trail across the dried trail of blood more in contemplation than fear. Nothing about him seemed to frighten her, perhaps because unlike the others she had nothing to lose. No standing among the Nihil, no rank or ship to lose. She had nothing but her life, and that was forfeit the minute she was placed before him. He should have seen this coming. Of course she would comply only as long as she felt like it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door to the ready room slid open and Marchion rose to his feet. Garran slid his mask off in a graceful gesture, his stride never breaking as he came to a stop in front of the throne and inclined his head respectfully. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You sent for me?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see you managed to corner the Republic ships,” Marchion observed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was just as you said. There they were, awaiting the Emergence.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you were successful? In taking them all?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Most,” Garran amended. Marchion, who had been pacing as he spoke, came to an abrupt halt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Most?” he repeated, his voice quiet but deadly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We lost a few of the smaller ships,” Garran said, hanging his head in apparent shame. “Self-destructed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing could be recovered?” Marchion asked, struggling to remember if he’d  seen anything exploding, and coming up empty. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing that we could get to safely, no.” The matter would warrant further investigation. Something wasn’t adding up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see,” Marchion said, with a pang wondering what Sola would think of the chance to determine why exactly so many of Garran’s missions went awry. “Dismissed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have to ask, Marchion,” Garran said, stepping closer to the platform. “Why summon me on board? Why not use a direct channel?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>So I could look you in your worthless eyes and find a reason to kill you and be rid of you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Marchion thought bitterly before saying “Too easy to intercept.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Even on our secure channels?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Was there something else?” Marchion asked, irritated when Garran remained where he stood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just wanted to apologize,” he said, with a shake of his head. “For my delay is reporting here. I confess, I checked the cockpit first.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why would I be in the cockpit?” Marchion snapped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know why.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Enlighten me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s just Sola said that the two of you-” he let it hang and turned his gaze directly onto Marchion’s. “Well, never mind all that. That’s a conversation you and I can have another time. Perhaps once we’ve concluded our business here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> did Sola say?” Marchion hissed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, Marchion. Your secret is safe with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With that he finally replaced his mask and spun on his heel, leaving Marchion stunned in his wake. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hadn’t, surely? She wouldn’t have dared. Would she? As a way to get back at him? To place Garran at the top and seize power for herself?  He ought to have stopped this little flirtation as soon as it began. He was the Eye, and his word ranked highest of all. The anger flared to life within him once more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola would answer for this. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, here we are again</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Sola thought bitterly, her back resting against the walls of the brig. At least this time she’d been brought here at her own request, so that was different she supposed. Her hair had come loose from her braid, so she swept it back, intending on fastening it once more. As she did, her fingertips brushed the small scar that was a souvenir of the adventure that brought her here in the first place. It had healed greatly since she’d arrived, though it was still an angry shade of red. She supposed it would be for a while yet. She decided not to tie back her hair, letting the dark curls run down her back and shoulders. It wasn’t as though she was going anywhere for a while. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t regret the decision that had brought her here. She was furious at herself for being so naive, for not once thinking to wonder where the Nihil were going with the Paths she gave them. They were </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nihil</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It wasn’t as though their intentions were philanthropic. The scar on her head was a stark reminder of that. She’d been brought here, unconscious and bleeding, for the explicit purpose of helping them do what she’d just witnessed. She should have known better.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though, if she were being entirely honest with herself, she would always regret not getting a chance to try and complete the Emergence data. That a problem set she was capable of solving sat within reach, on board the very vessel that carried her now, and yet was so far out of reach it might as well be on a Core World, bothered her more than it should have.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t help that her surroundings were dull to the point of torturous. She’d become too used to comforts and to mental stimulation, that her situation now felt unbearable. The brig was just as cold as she remembered, only now with the added feature of some sort of insect or small creature that had found its way inside. She couldn’t see what it was, but the periodic skittering she heard in the distance was just sporadic enough to set her teeth on edge. At least if there were some kind of </span>
  <em>
    <span>rhythm</span>
  </em>
  <span> to it, or a pattern…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was just considering whether or not she would have the heart to squash whatever it was if it came her way, when raised voices sounded in the corridor outside the brig. Something heavy thudded against the door, startling her to her feet just as a beep and hiss signalled that she was no longer alone. Two masked Nihil marched in, and slid off their face coverings with the kind of synchronicity that spoke of a close partnership. Oora and Irami came to a stop in front of Sola’s cell, the latter massaging her gloved knuckles which bore drops of a bright shiny liquid that greatly resembled blood. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened to you?” she asked Irami, staring at her fist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened to </span>
  <em>
    <span>you?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>the Duros countered. “We come back, you’re not in the bunk and then Pak says the Eye ordered you brought here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I-” she paused to think. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For all that Marchion had thrown her in the brig, she couldn’t bring herself to reveal his secret and betray the real reason she was on the ship. After all, he might stoop to the basest of levels, but she had no reason to do the same. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I did something he did not approve of,” she said at last.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Irami glared at Oora, whose starry eyes widened in worry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I told you,” Irami snapped. “This was a bad idea from the start, but you had to go exceeding your mandate.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps you were willing to risk the Eye’s displeasure, Irami, but I was not,” Oora said stubbornly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“At what cost?” Irami hissed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s this about the Eye’s displeasure?” Sola cut in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Oora explained. “A condition of my promotion to Storm was that I was to keep watch on you, report back to the Eye.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right,” Sola replied. “He said as much to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh!” Oora looked momentarily relieved. “Well then-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What she isn’t telling you,” Irami burst out, “is that the Eye requested that she watch for any attempts to escape or contact the Republic. Not to disclose her personal affairs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola stepped away from the cell door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Sola,” Oora said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s how he knew? About Garran? I thought he just suspected, but…you told him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What was I supposed to do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wanted power that badly?” Sola asked, incredulous.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not like that!” the Rodian said desperately. “You don’t understand. You’re not Nihil.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am,” Irami said. “Explain it to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oora sighed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you, Irami,” she said. Judging by the surprised look on the Duros’ face, this was the first time she was hearing her partner speak these words. “I have for a long time. I couldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>believe</span>
  </em>
  <span> when you chose me out of everyone in our Tempest, and treated me like an equal no less.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola did her best to shrink back and give them privacy. Not an easy feat, all things considered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you know how things are. So hierarchical. You never heard it, no one would dare say it in front of you, but the other Strikes…they accused me of sleeping my way into a promotion."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why not call them out?” Irami exclaimed. “Fight for your honour in the Great Hall?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What, all of them?” Oora asked dryly. “No. It was enough to know I was right and that you wanted me, and loved me. But then when the Eye offered me an opportunity? How could I not take it, and do everything I could to keep it. Show everyone - you included - that I was worthy enough to stand at your side.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve always been worthy to me,” Irami said, confused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And if I lost my role as Storm? The shame alone. I couldn’t have you tainted by association. What if I were cast out?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then I would be right behind you, Oora, don’t you </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Rodian's eyes watered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Forgive me, my love?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Irami wrapped her arms around Oora and kissed her gently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> a little awkward to watch something so personal unfold, Sola would be lying if she said the exchange hadn’t warmed her heart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I want someone to love me like that</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thought, regretfully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Always, but…it’s not my forgiveness you need.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola started as both Nihil seemed to remember she was still in the room and thoroughly unable to leave it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sola,” Oora said. “Truly, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Sola said, waving the apology away. “I’ve made it clear to the Eye that he is to have no say in my personal life. No matter how much he seems resistant to the idea.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If it’s any consolation, I don’t believe you ever had cause to worry,” Oora added. “It’s quite clear that the Eye is willing to overlook a great deal where you’re concerned.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, please,” Irami said, rolling her eyes and exchanging a glance with Oora, who was still nestled in her embrace. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola was on the point of pressing for more information when the door to the brig opened, and the Eye himself strode in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What. Happened.” He bit out, training his smooth black gaze on the two Nihil. Irami no longer had her arms around Oora, but Sola was pleased to see they were still holding hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Out with the Republic ships you mean?” Irami asked, far too innocently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Outside the brig. Why is the guard unconscious?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was the strangest thing. He wouldn’t let us in to see our friend. He had to be convinced otherwise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did he?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll have to excuse us, Marchion,” Oora said quickly. “We only came here to escort Garran, we need to get back out there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Rodian quickly drew her partner away by the hand, both of them waving at Sola as they left. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With them gone, his attention turned to Sola, and Sola alone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I have nothing to say to you,” she said, exhibiting an extraordinary amount of authority for someone confined to a prison cell. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m hoping perhaps you’ll listen for once,” Marchion replied. He managed to keep his voice steady, the walk down to the brig having calmed him down somewhat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She raised a skeptical brow, then stepped back and sat on the hard bench that served as a bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very well, it’s not as though I have anything else to do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have tried to be fair with you, Sola-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What was that?” she called. “I’m sorry, I can’t hear you from in here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion clenched his teeth together. The audacity of her to be so difficult on purpose, at this </span>
  <span>critical moment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you have something to say to me, you may either let me out, or join me in here. I will not be spoken to like a prisoner, when all I have done is help you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion overrode the lock to the cell door and let it open, stepping inside. He had never fully appreciated how small the space was. His head barely missed brushing against the smooth ceiling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Funny you mention that, “ he said, glaring down at Sola. “When I’ve heard otherwise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What was it you heard? That the Eye of the Nihil is the one who calculates the Paths for us all? Because if so, you’re right, there is more to that particular story.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He cast a quick glance around. They were alone in the brig, though there was no telling who might arrive at any moment in search of him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who else knows the entire story, Sola?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who else knows about our arrangement?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No one. Not even your spy has figured it out. She just thinks I’m sneaking around with Garran at all hours. A report, I hear, that has reached your ears.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So it’s true then?” His jealousy flared up, getting the better of him like a lovesick schoolboy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that what you came to talk about? Wanted to make sure I was locked up and couldn’t leave before asking me what it is I see in Garran?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How had he lost the upper hand in this conversation so quickly?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What I’d like to know is what it is you see in him that made you feel the need to tell him the truth about what you do on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gaze Electric</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What I do? Besides Garran, you mean?” She was goading him on purpose now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sola.” His voice had dropped to a low, menacing tone. The kind that never failed to call an entire assembly of Nihil to order. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I haven’t told him anything,” she said, in a more subdued tone. “Whatever he knows, he must have guessed, just by seeing me in the cockpit with you. He’s many things, but he isn’t stupid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion’s eyes raked over Sola, the soft curls of her hair, the way her cheeks flushed when she was angry, the beautiful fullness of her mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Marchion agreed. “He certainly isn’t that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The air around them quieted down into a tense, awkward buzz. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t just come here to talk about Garran, did you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” he said again. “I need your help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I won’t do it,” she said at once.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sola-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” she buried her face in her hands in frustration. “You can’t ask this of me. It isn’t fair. All those people out there. Dead. And for what? For plunder? Are you so heartless?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Agents of the Republic!” Marchion spat. “Why do you think I wanted us here at an Emergence site? Their ships are always there, waiting to help, to divert the debris-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, yes, how cruel of them. To ensure that debris flying at lightspeed doesn’t hit the innocent and kill them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There would be no debris if they hadn’t thought to settle out here in the first place!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But they did. It’s happened. Take issue with the Republic, if you must, but leave the civilians out of this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you think we were doing? Whose ships do you think those were?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All of them were Republic craft? Really? Because I saw a handful of Corellia shuttles, and I know for a fact those are interplanetary transports for farm workers and merchants. For some of them, the Outer Rim is the only home they’ve ever known. Naturally they’d rise to protect it, when called to do so by the Republic.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do not make excuses for those who would invade our space.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not,” she said. “As I said, take issue with the Republic. Goodness knows they have their fair share of problems. But do keep in mind that some of us who live out here may not have had a choice in the matter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her voice cracked. Whatever he’d been about to say died on his tongue. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sola,” he asked after a few long, deathly silent moments in which only the skittering of the little creature could be heard, “is that how your husband died? Fighting to stop an Emergence.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She scoffed and rolled her eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. He was away on business. A…a Strike of Nihil I suppose found him and he- he never came home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sat beside her on the bench. She was surprised at the intimacy of it, but turned to angle her body towards him regardless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be, it wasn’t your doing. Anyway, it was no great loss. Really. He…he wasn’t a good man.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He hurt you?” He placed his hand over hers without thinking. She tensed, but otherwise didn’t move it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ignored me, mostly. Left me alone in the Outer Rim, away from everything I knew. But others had it worse, I’m sure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He picked up her hand and held it properly now, squeezing her fingers in reassurance. His other hand drifted up, and stroked her cheek.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was deeply confused. She was still angry at him, for all he’d made her do. And she wasn’t entirely sure they’d actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>resolved</span>
  </em>
  <span> anything between them. But he had seemed to take her words to heart, and perhaps that was all she could expect for now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the way he was making her feel now overrode all else. His touch was sending sparks through her body, not unlike the jolts she got in the pod, but far warmer and more pleasant. She leaned her cheek into his touch and sighed, covering his hand with her own, keeping it there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am sorry, Sola. Truly. For all of it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Marchion, I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ship blared to life around them, a hideous noise sounding throughout. They both jumped, the spell of their little moment completely broken.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is that?” she shouted over the sound.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Emergence,” he said. “It’s here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she shrieked. “It hadn’t hit yet?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, we were meant to be gone by now. We won’t make it out on time. We might just be able to avoid the debris, but…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We need a pilot to navigate short range Paths for the whole fleet. Fast turnarounds. Can you manage it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The whole- </span>
  <em>
    <span>the whole fleet?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” This was getting more and more ridiculous. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s no time to waste. Let’s go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was out of her cell and had begun moving for the door. She remained behind, unmoving, waiting for him to notice her absence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sola?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” she said. “I won’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean? This isn’t the time for jokes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do I look like I’m joking?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She had never been more serious in her life. She’d finally found a way to obtain the results she wanted, regain control of the situation and she wouldn’t let it slip away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re all going to die if you don’t-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So we die,” she shrugged. “It makes no difference to me. I cannot convince you not to harm innocent people in your bid to stop the Republic. But I can refuse to take part in it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not what this is,” he said impatiently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know. My condition is this: I will help you now, in exchange for my freedom.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola’s heart was racing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You heard me. I help you now, you let me walk away with my life. I’ll have no part of this any longer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sola…” he glanced over his shoulder. It was so clear to her now, she wondered why she hadn’t seen it before. He was scared.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What will it be, Marchion Ro?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have a deal.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks, as always, for reading &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“But…why?” she asked in a small voice. He would hand over the entire Nihil fleet, knowing she already held most of the cards. The weight of it was crushing.</p>
<p>“Because your navigation is precise. Because frankly I don’t understand it the way you do.”</p>
<p>He paused, the line remaining open, and ambient static buzz filling the air.</p>
<p>“But mostly because I trust you,” he finished.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The ships sirens blared around them, the noise splitting Marchion’s eardrums and punctuated only by the sounds of their boots as they sprinted down the corridor and towards the waiting turbo lift. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why don’t we just jump away? Back to No-Space?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rather than dwelling on her casual use of “we”, Marchion shook his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not leaving those Republic ships out here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’d put the lives of everyone at risk for what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s what we do, Sola. Everyone here knew the risk. This isn’t the time for another of your ethical quandaries.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ethical quandaries?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she hissed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion paused, and stood in front of her, barring her path. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If nothing else, it is </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> life on the line here. I intend to keep my word. Help us survive the Emergence and you are free to go.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola seemed to suddenly realize that he was serious, and nodded quickly in acknowledgement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ride up to the command deck was not a long one, but currently it felt endless. Time had a way of slowing down when one was graced with the knowledge that at any moment, chunks of debris would come flying out of hyperspace and cause untold damage before they had a chance to do anything about it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion risked a glance at Sola. Her eyes were wide and distant, completely fixed on an arbitrary point on the turbo lift wall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sola,” he called. “Sola!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Focus, please. The success of this entire endeavour, and I might add the survival of the Nihil rests entirely on you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>War raged on her face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why should I care?”, she snapped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You might not approve of our methods,” he continued. “But our lives are worth something too. Not to mention your own survival?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you’ve said,” she laughed weakly and without any real mirth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The turbo lift opened and the two of them rushed out into the corridor. He followed her towards the cockpit, but she paid him no heed. It wasn’t until they’d actually reached the doorway when she seemed to realize he was still with her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m here to oversee-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“NO!” she shrieked, very uncharacteristically. She lowered her voice, her sudden outburst startling them both. “No, no. I need you in the ready room. Running communications. It’ll be a steady flow of short range Paths.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wanted to point out that he could relay just as well from the cockpit, but she looked so concerned and overwhelmed he was ready to agree to whatever condition she set. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright. Fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Marchion?” she called as he retreated. “What happens if I can’t do it? If I fail?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed. He should lie and tell her she could do it, no matter what. Or threaten her with punishment as he would any other Nihil. But if this really were the end…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then I shall go to my death wishing we had more time.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He continued on his way before she could make any sense of what he said. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>That can’t mean what I think it does…Can it? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sola thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The loud, persistent blaring of the ships systems gave her no time to unpack whatever it was Marchion had meant. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She opened up a map of the sector and examined the layout, including all potential obstructions. Fortunately, there weren’t many to account for, other than the Nihil ships, and those sent by the Republic. But </span>
  <em>
    <span>those</span>
  </em>
  <span> ones weren’t in any condition to move.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Marchion,” she called on the comms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” came the reply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need the Emergence data.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Why?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why? What did that mean? What sort of magic had Mari San Tekka been able to work that things like data and variables did not factor into her process at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need to see what I’m working with. Does this seem like the time to question me?” she replied, which seemed like a better reply than her first idea, which had been far more expletive-ridden.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The comm line opened. She could hear him sigh on the other end. But rather than an apology - or a threat, which felt more likely - the line went dead. She was just thinking she ought to march down to the cockpit and teach the Eye a thing or two about how to manage a crisis situation, when her display lit up with the telltale flash of a file transfer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She breathed a sigh of relief as she reviewed the data, sending out a silent, secret thank you to whomever had calculated the Emergences initially. They clearly thought along analytical lines, as they’d included the velocity of each occurrence. Had they not…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola shuddered. She didn’t have time for worst-case scenarios. Or rather </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> worst-case scenarios, because this was already fairly dire. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>According to the data, she had perhaps 5 minutes before the Emergence. She fought the urge to curl up on the floor and scream. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The  static projection of the sector was immediately swapped out for the rarely-used dynamic projection. In theory, this projection was meant for wartime strategizing. Today it would serve a different purpose. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She quickly input the rough size of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Legacy Run</span>
  </em>
  <span> fragment and its velocity and exit point, then ran the simulation. While she let it play out, she turned her attention immediately to her next problem: the actual Paths.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t have time to work out enough scenarios for every active Nihil ship that would last long enough to avoid all the destruction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then again,” she gasped, “maybe it doesn’t have to be all at once.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All she would have to do, she realized, would be to send each ship a steady stream of short range Paths. When their Path Engine completed the first sequence, she would have another waiting in its place. She counted the Nihil ships on her projection. A dozen larger vessels, a cluster of single-rider craft, and of course the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gaze Electric. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She would have to assume every single Republic craft was incapable of movement. None were equipped with Path Engines in any case.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She keyed up her comms again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Marchion? Order the single-person craft to dock immediately until we’re clear of this,” she said, slipping back into her business mindset. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>This isn’t life-or-death</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she told herself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is a simulation. A final exam.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>It should have been done already,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Marchion muttered before the line went dead. Sola watched from the viewport. Every single small craft turned at once, docking in almost beautiful, uniform fashion, with the closest larger vehicle, like a swarm of birds roosting on the nearest tree.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How secure is your connection to the other Path engines?” she asked, opening the line to Marchion again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Extremely,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he replied.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She quickly rattled off her plan to him, promising to make it as straightforward as possible. The line was silent for a long time. Longer than it should have been for someone who considered his death to be imminent. Sola kept working throughout Marchion’s mysterious absence, condensing her formula for long-distance Path travel.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t until she had actually completed the equation and begun to input the coordinate variables - with two minutes until impact - that Marchion spoke up again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sola? Can you hear me</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can, go ahead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve passed on control of the fleet’s Path Engines to you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The whole fleet? It was a mercy she hadn’t been in the middle of anything crucial. Her mind went utterly blank as his words sank in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But…why?” she asked in a small voice. He would hand over the entire Nihil fleet, knowing she already held most of the cards. The weight of it was crushing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Because your navigation is precise. Because frankly I don’t understand it the way you do</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He paused, the line remaining open, and ambient static buzz filling the air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>But mostly because I trust you</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he finished.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Well, then.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“T-tell them to stand by,” she said, once she’d found her voice again. “Paths incoming. I’ll engage the Engines simultaneously from here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>As my navigator commands</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he quipped before the line went silent once more. She climbed into the pod and fastened the restraint around her waist, not even trying with the others.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here goes nothing,” Sola sighed, and fired off the first of the Paths. The last one she programmed was the one for the</span>
  <em>
    <span> Gaze Electric</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That done, she stood in wait, her eyes fixed to the screen providing a readout of the area. The moment the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Legacy Run </span>
  </em>
  <span>fragment broke through, she would set the sequence in motion. Each Path accounted for two minutes of evasion tactics that would automatically pull their ships around the sector, evading both debris, and one another. While this was underway, she would work on the next set of data. By her estimation, she would need eight Paths per ship until the area was clear enough to resume scavenging. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The screen blipped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Emergence broke free of hyperspace.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola engaged the Engine, and the ship dropped at once into the Path. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blinded by swirling psychedelic lights, she set immediately to work, changing the equation to account for the new end points of each ship, and inputting them as she went. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She fell into an almost kind of trance as she went, each ship only experiencing a second or two of realspace before they were once again being pulled through the cloud of colour and light that marked the Paths. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Things took a turn for the worse at the halfway mark.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was inputting her fifth data set when her live readout screen changed. One of the ship was sending out it’s single pilot crews again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” Sola shrieked. “No, no, no!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But she didn’t have time to call Marchion. No time to do anything except the only task keeping the rest of them alive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She set the sequence in motion then permitted herself a moment to glance at the live readout. All the ships shifted into the Paths. But with nothing to guide them as they barrelled towards the inactive Republic vessels, the eight or so craft that the ship had sent out interfered with her precise calculations. She watched in horror as one by one the icons indicating each small shuttle vanished off her screen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola threw herself back into her calculations, back into her trance. Enough time had been wasted on those who’d never stood a chance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was halfway through entering a new set of values when she consulted the screen and realized that was it. She’d finished the final set of Paths. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was over. They’d survived. Mostly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola permitted herself a single, weak laugh as she unbuckled her waist restraint, then stumbled out of the pod. She paused by the computer, where the sector readouts still glowed. She glanced at them for only a moment, then out the large viewport and saw that the Nihil had gone back to work amid the falling debris that had once been their comrades. Remembering those who’d lost their lives, and her indirect responsibility, Sola doubled over and threw up everything in her stomach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shaking, she heaved up the last of the foul bile in her stomach, clumsily wiped her mouth with her sleeve, then carefully walked backwards on shaking legs until she rested against the back of her pod. She closed her eyes and tried to catch her breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aware of a small scritching sound, she was just wondering whether the little scurrying critter that had been in the brig had followed her up here, when the door hissed and someone entered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She winced internally at the sour smell that must have greeted them, but didn’t really have the energy to do much about it beyond that. She didn’t even think to open her eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The newcomer didn’t move for a second. Strangely the skittering sound stopped. Then whoever it was approached and took her in their arms, holding her close. She threw her arms around him - for it felt like a familiar </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> - and rested her head on his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sola,” he said, patting her shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Marchion,” she whispered back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Marchion?” Garran said. Her eyes flew open and widened in horror. Of course this wasn’t Marchion. She struggled out of his arms, thinking fast.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Garran! Um- Marchion can’t- he can’t see us. What if- what if he were to come in?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hoped that would be cover enough for her blunder, kicking herself for being so stupid as to think the first thing Marchion would do after a raid on Republic resources, an Emergence and the loss of eight Nihil would be to come comfort </span>
  <em>
    <span>her.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It seemed to have worked. Garran didn’t look shocked or wounded. Instead he stared at her with a slightly quizzical expression, his head cocked slightly to the side and the corners of his mouth quirked up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You alright, baby?” he asked. “All that fancy flying make you sick?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She offered a relieved chuckle, grateful for the ready-made excuse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. It was- it was the flying.” She then frowned. “Speaking of flying, how did you get here so fast? Aren’t you supposed to be out there with the others?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where’s the Eye?” he asked, ignoring her question. “I assumed he would be here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He said something about his ready room,” Sola lied quickly. “You might try there?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will,” Garran said, grinning in earnest now. “Wait here for me, baby?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I- I will, sure,” she said, immediately regretting it as the foul smell wafted in her direction once more. She wondered if Pak might send someone to help her deal with the mess she’d made. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But if she were being honest with herself, her real regret lay in agreeing to meet one man here, when another waited elsewhere.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One who’d wanted more time with her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One who </span>
  <em>
    <span>trusted</span>
  </em>
  <span> her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion couldn’t believe it. She’d done it. She had </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> done it, for all that she seemed worried that she couldn’t. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d been prepared to let all of them die, herself included, and yet here she’d pulled off a miraculous feat. They would not only walk away with their lives, but with a fair amount of riches to be divided among Tempests. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Some had died, it was true. Clouds or Strikes, no doubt. Their Storms would be dealt with in due  course.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He switched off the holotable, heart racing with his eagerness to get to the cockpit. To see her. He wasn’t entirely sure what he would do. Perhaps take her in his arms at last. Or otherwise worship at her feet. Whatever she asked of him, he would do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Even if that means letting her go</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With no time to waste, he picked up his mask, and made to leave the ready room. If this was the last he would see of Sola San Tekka, then he intended to make it worthwhile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door opened before he reached it, and in swept Garran, not appearing as though he’d just been caught in a nearly fatal Emergence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Marchion,” he said, a smug grin on his face. “We need to talk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He opened his palm, and nestled in the middle was a small, scuttling droid. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well well well what have we here</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The door hissed silently signalling Garran’s return.</p><p>“Did you find him?” she croaked.</p><p>“Find who?” said a voice that was all rolling thunder and quiet menace, and that most certainly did not belong to Garran. </p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello! A couple of notes:</p><p>- rating's gone up from M to E on the advice of my beta reader who said that the upcoming smut I've written has no place under an M tag :'D</p><p>- chapter counts gone up too, I think this is going to be more drawn out than originally anticipated, but I hope you'll stick with me!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What do you want?” Marchion snapped. He was in no mood for whatever theatrics Garran had planned today. “What is that?”</p><p>“Oh this?” Garran asked, idly picking up the droid by one of its spindly little legs, “clever little thing isn’t it? I built it myself.”</p><p>“If you’re looking to be commended for your technological prowess, Garran, I suggest you take it elsewhere, I haven’t the time.”</p><p>Marchion donned his mask and stormed past the Mirialan.</p><p>“It’s actually not <em> my </em>technological prowess I’ve come to discuss,” Garran called. “Rather it’s yours.”</p><p>Marchion paused, a horrible sick feeling creeping up along the back of his neck. He turned back around. Garran hadn’t moved, the smug grin still planted on his face.</p><p>“I thought that might interest you,” Garran drawled.</p><p>“You had better start talking,” Marchion snapped. </p><p>“I have a proposition for you.”</p><p>“Not interested.” Marchion made to leave again.</p><p>“It concerns your navigator,” Garran said, which stopped Marchion dead in his tracks. “Ah. I assume I have your attention now.”</p><p>“You leave her out of whatever this is,” Marchion hissed.</p><p>Garran laughed, surprised. </p><p>“How <em> interesting </em> that that’s where your mind went,” Garran smirked. “I was referring more to the things she does for you…not the things she does for me.”</p><p>Marchion saw red. He was seized with the overwhelming and unhelpful desire to punch his Tempest Runner right in his smug expression.</p><p>Garran crossed over to the holotable and inserted a datachip he’d removed from the palm-sized droid. </p><p>“Suppose I destroy that datachip and execute you in the Great Hall as you deserve.”</p><p>“Go right ahead,” Garran shrugged, gesturing at the chip. “The footage is uploaded to my ships network already. As for executing me, well, there are many in my Tempest who are…shall we say…unhappy with how the transfer of power occurred.” </p><p>“Then their issue ought to be with you, not with me. Why accept the role if you believed it wrong?”</p><p>Garran affected a helpless look as his voice turned sarcastic.</p><p>“What was I supposed to do? Refuse the Eye of the Nihil? They might not trust me, but you’re the one who overstepped.”</p><p>“You expect me to be afraid of a handful of upstarts, is that what I’m hearing?”</p><p>“There are more of them than you realize, Marchion. Many who would be only too happy to follow my lead. If you enjoy the power you hold, I would advise you to proceed with great caution.”</p><p>Marchion didn’t move, his curiosity to see the content of the chip overruling his desire to throw Garran out of the airlock.</p><p>Once the content of the chip had loaded into the display, he motioned for Marchion to move closer and join him. He barely moved any closer to the Mirialan, choosing to affect a kind of indifference, rather than letting it become known how nervous he was. How much did Garran know?</p><p>Too much as it turned out. </p><p>Marchion watched in horror, concealed thankfully by his mask, as security feed after security feed began to play. Sola alone in the cockpit, presumably when she was meant to be calculating Paths for him. But rather than using the pod as Mari had done, it appeared she was working directly off of her data pad and the various charts and displays available, doing it all by hand. It was only in the moments where he entered the cockpit that he saw Sola leap into the pod and pretend as though she’d been in there all along.</p><p>What was she <em> doing </em>? She had lied to him, that much was obvious, but why?</p><p>The feed changed. Now it was Sola alone in the brig, joined shortly thereafter by Oora and Irami. This had been only hours ago. The voices on the feed were muffled, far away, but it mattered little what they said. He watched their conversation play out, knowing what would come next: his own conversation with Sola. He clenched his fists as the screen showed the last quiet moment they’d had together, him with his palm resting on her cheek, her leaning into his touch-</p><p>“Is there a point to all this?” Marchion growled, thoroughly frustrated.</p><p>“That last part? That was just for me to see your reaction. But the rest of it? I wonder how the Nihil would feel if they realized none of their Paths came from you. That they never have. Would they trust you still, I wonder? Allow you to remain the Eye?</p><p>“I suppose you would rather assume the role yourself,” Marchion asked, rolling his eyes.</p><p>“I don’t want the burden of leadership,” Garran scoffed. “I leave that to you. I merely want the privileges. Think on it.”</p><p>Garran stepped around him, and headed for the door. </p><p>“You can keep that,” he said, by way of farewell. “There’s something more there that might interest you.”</p><p>Marchion was not keen to stall any longer, now filled with a burning need to see Sola and confront her. Give her a chance to deny everything he’d just seen with his eyes. </p><p>He watched her generate the Paths from a few short moments ago, this time from the safety of the pod, though this seemed more a piloting concern than a navigational one. Heard as she cried out with grief when the eight pilots had been killed. Watched her get sick to her stomach when the Emergence had passed. </p><p>Finally, he saw Garran enter, scoop up the small spy droid and take Sola in his arms. With the device so close to her, there was no mistaking her voice as she wrapped her arms around Garran in turn.</p><p>“Marchion,” she sighed.</p><p>He switched off the table, thoroughly surprised, and stormed off in the direction of the cockpit, a swirl of anger and confusion waging a war inside him.</p><p>By the time he reached the cockpit, anger had won out.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>The moment Garran had left her alone, Sola slumped down to the floor, her back leaning against the pod, with her knees pulled in. Her legs could no longer be trusted to support her. Her eyes were closed in a silent prayer for her stomach to cease its endless churning, and her hands cradled her throbbing head. A cleaning droid had scuttled in to deal with her mess, so that was a small relief.</p><p>The door hissed silently signalling Garran’s return.</p><p>“Did you find him?” she croaked.</p><p>“Find who?” said a voice that was all rolling thunder and quiet menace, and that most certainly did not belong to Garran. </p><p>Sola shot to her feet and regretted it instantly. She clutched the edge of the pod to stabilize herself.</p><p>“Oh. You’re here,” she said, unable to conceal the little note of hope in her voice. Her heart began to race, her body ached to run towards him.</p><p>“You were expecting someone else?” he asked in a voice so cold it felt like a slap to the face. “You don’t need to worry, your co-conspirator’s plan went off without a hitch.”</p><p>This couldn’t be the same man who’d been so understanding not two hours ago. Nor could this be the same one who wished they’d had more time together. </p><p>“My-” She was well and truly lost. “My what? Marchion, what are you talking about?”</p><p>“Lying doesn’t suit you, Sola.”</p><p>“I’m not lying!”</p><p>“Nor does denial.”</p><p>“I can’t deny a charge I don’t understand!”</p><p>This also couldn’t just be about Garran. He knew about that already, had heard her confirm it. And while she’d initially thought there was a trace of jealousy when he spoke of Garran, there was none of that now. What she saw was pure, unrestricted fury. </p><p>“I want you to calculate a Path for me, Sola,” he said suddenly. He was eerily calm.</p><p>
  <em> What? </em>
</p><p>“Um…fine. Leave me with the coordinates and I’ll-”</p><p>“I’m not leaving you. Not this time.”</p><p>
  <em> Oh. Oh no. </em>
</p><p>“B-but, I need-”</p><p>“You need what, exactly?”</p><p>She fought to stop her voice and body from shaking. If he knew the truth, she likely had minutes to live. Or else she was facing an eternity locked up in the bowels of the ship. For whatever else he was, he had spared her life twice.</p><p>“You know,” she said at last. “Don’t you?”</p><p>“Know that the ability I specifically sought in a navigator is not one you possess? Yes, I do.”</p><p>Sola walked around to the front of the pod and gestured at the apparatus within. </p><p>“I’m not sure exactly what it is you wanted!” Sola exclaimed. “Who could make use of any of this…this chaos?”</p><p>“You managed well enough, when the time came to deceive me.”</p><p>“Deceive! You think I deceived you? You asked for someone to find routes around hyperspace, through these so-called Paths, and I have <em> done that </em>. You have no right to come here and accuse me of lying, or of-” She paused, unsure. “Of having co-conspirators. I don’t even know who you’re talking about!”</p><p>He said nothing for a moment, the red pattern on his mask glowing eerily in the semi-dark. </p><p>“Please don’t lie to me. Not anymore.” She heard a note of pain in his voice, but was far past the point of caring.</p><p>“Then perhaps start by being a little more forthcoming!” Sola yelled, tears of anger threatening to spill over. She turned away from him, to get herself under control. This was always how she’d lost the upper hand with Aurel - bursting into tears and having her anger dismissed as hysterics. If it happened again…</p><p>“Garran,” Marchion said, equal parts hurt and distant. “He showed me the security footage. You, calculating each Path by hand.”</p><p>“What footage is this?” Sola asked, peering over her shoulder. “I didn’t know I was being recorded.”</p><p>She gasped. A sensation like ice trickled down her spine. If he’d recorded her working, what else had he seen without her permission?</p><p>“Is that- is that all he recorded? Just me, in here, working?”</p><p>“Isn’t that enough?” Marchion asked, exasperated.</p><p>“Right, yes, of course.” She breathed a sigh of relief that at the very least her private fantasies about the man before her were allowed to remain so. “But nonetheless, Marchion, I promise you. I don’t know what you mean about being a co-conspirator.”</p><p>He scoffed.</p><p>“So your plan after this was to, what? To leave as if nothing had happened? To not tell the entire Republic fleet, or worse the <em> Jedi </em> that the Eye of the Nihil is only able to subvert their routes through hyperspace by the grace of another?”</p><p>“I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” she admitted. “I didn’t think we would make it out of that Emergence alive.”</p><p>“Yet we did,” Marchion said. “How?”</p><p>“Exactly what you saw on the footage,” she said simply. “I calculated it by hand, the way I’ve done every Path calculation since the beginning.”</p><p>Marchion shook his head.</p><p>“So I could have found any San Tekka then, if the process is so simple. I needn’t have bothered with you.”</p><p>Of all the things he could have said, that hurt the most. Needn’t have <em> bothered </em> with her? She chastised herself for any silly fantasy she’d allowed herself to have, for misconstruing anything he’d said as kindness and affection.</p><p>“Believe me when I say that no San Tekka could do what I’ve done.” Her voice cracked on the family name, which weighed on her tongue and her soul like an insult.</p><p>“And what is it you’ve done?”</p><p>“Why? So you can find someone else to do it instead? So you needn’t bother with me any longer?” Sola rolled her eyes. “If you want the truth, I need a show of faith. What did Garran say?”</p><p>Marchion bristled, but Sola would not waver. She continued to stare at him, her eyes tracing the familiar shape of his mask and landing where she knew his eyes to be. She raised a brow.</p><p>“He said that should I not permit him his freedoms where he desires them, then he will make it known among the Nihil that the Paths do not originate with me. That they have no reason to allow <em> me </em> to remain Eye.”</p><p>“Hmm,” she said, nodding in recognition.</p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>“Whenever we were…well. Together. He would often ask me why it was that you kept me around. I suppose he took matters into his own hands. Got tired of waiting for me to slip up.”</p><p>Marchion slid his mask off.</p><p>“You kept the secret?”</p><p>“I told you I would,” Sola said, hurt. </p><p>Marchion took a step towards her, as though reaching for one of her hands. She crossed her arms, not wanting to be touched. Marchion withdrew his hand and watched her instead.</p><p>“It killed me not to say anything,” Sola said sadly. “Not because I wanted power, or freedom, or anything of the sort.”</p><p>“Then why?” Marchion prompted.</p><p>“You don’t understand just how big this all is,” she said. “Path navigation. I told you once that it was discussed in academic circles, dismissed as so improbable as to be impossible. I never believed that, myself. Nothing that is so firmly rooted in physics and navigation, in mathematics, could truly be impossible.”</p><p>She could feel in the way the corners of her mouth pulled up that she was slipping into academic mode.</p><p>“I wanted to study it further at the University. My husband wouldn’t hear of it, and took me away to the Outer Rim. For years, nearly a decade, I wondered what had become of the field of Path navigation, as you call it. Then I was brought here, and given unrestricted access to what is, in essence, a gigantic laboratory. Free to test my theories as I please, to be the first to do so because the Core Worlds are so quick to dismiss things that seem too complicated. In truth, that was the real reason I accepted your offer.”</p><p>“So you had no reason to think that your calculations would work?”</p><p>“Not the first few times, no.”</p><p>“You let me put all my faith in you, and yet had no idea if it was warranted.”</p><p>“Do you regret it?” she asked.</p><p>“No. I suppose not, all things considered.”</p><p>Sola sighed.</p><p>“Do you believe me now? I promise, I never meant to enable Garran in any way. I just…wanted a chance to do what I enjoy. What I’m good at.”</p><p>Marchion nodded in acknowledgement.</p><p>“If that’s all, Marchion, I think I’d rather like to go lie down for a while.” She was absolutely exhausted, and had no idea how she was still standing. She needed to rest, think, and plan her next steps. Nothing had ever seemed as enticing as a few uninterrupted hours in her bunk, lost in a blissful sleep.She tried to brush past him, when suddenly he seized her wrist.</p><p>“Has anyone ever told you,” he said, his voice low, “that when you talk about your work you practically start glowing?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“It’s intoxicating.”</p><p>Before she could process the abrupt change in conversation any further, Marchion tugged her a little closer and covered her mouth with his.</p><p>Sola’s mind went completely blank. She was vaguely aware of Marchion relinquishing his hold on her wrist, and of him cupping her face with his hands. She felt her hand rise of their own volition and settle on his forearms. She also had the wherewithal to realize that the kiss ended far too quickly for her liking. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” he said at once, resting his forehead against hers, his dark eyes closed.</p><p>“For what?” she said, still dazed. Her fingers gripped his arms until he pulled away from her, not meeting her eye.</p><p>“That was…that was inappropriate of me. Whatever my problems with Garran, they are not your burden to bear. You’ve made your choice clear, on several occasions, and I should have respected that.”</p><p>He donned his mask once more.</p><p>“One last thing,” he added without turning around. “Direct the fleet and pilot us back to No-Space before you go.”</p><p> He left the cockpit in a hurry, before Sola could say another word. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And with vomit breath too...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“You were not at fault,” he murmured, the rumble of his chest soothing her. “It was the fault of whichever fool of a Storm sent them out to die, and when I get to the bottom of it, I promise they will pay the price.”</p><p>“You’ll kill them you mean,” she said, lifting her head.</p><p>“You think me a monster.” It wasn’t a question.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Put on your dancing shoes, it's party time!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Though on arriving at her bunk Sola felt wide awake, her mind racing just as quickly as her heart, it was a testament to just how tired she was that she managed to fall asleep without lingering on the kiss Marchion had given her. </p><p>Well, hardly lingering, in any case.</p><p>The sudden way he’d grabbed a hold of her and told her she was all but <em> glowing </em>. That he found it intoxicating. And then he’d kissed her too softly, too quickly, and was gone with an apology before she could think to do anything at all. She ought to have kissed him back, or told him to stay, or - a blush crept up her cheeks - asked him to help her find a more creative use for her navigator’s pod. She felt as giddy as a teenager and refused to dwell on the fact that she might not get another chance to do any of these things. The longer she daydreamed, the more her exhaustion finally caught up with her.</p><p>The last thing she felt as she drifted into unconsciousness was the ghost of his lips on hers, and the utterly idiotic grin currently spreading across her face.</p><p>She dreamt of stars, of colour and light, disjointed images of faceless Nihil surrounding her. She heard Oora calling out to her and she spun in the crowd trying to find her. The crowd parted and there stood Marchion. She made to advance towards him, but felt a brush at her shoulder. She spun around and there stood Garran, so close it made her jump. </p><p>She sat up abruptly in her bunk with a gasp, her chest heaving. She sat back against the bulkhead with a groan. She hated nightmares, they always left her with a headache. </p><p>“I didn’t wake you, did I?”</p><p>Sola saw Oora standing by the door of the fresher, half-dressed and applying cosmetics. Her usual work clothes were in a heap on the floor, and a cleaner, far nicer outfit lay on her bed.</p><p>“Uh, you didn’t call me before, did you?”</p><p>“I did, just once, I didn’t realize you were sleeping! I’m so sorry, I <em> knew </em> I woke you up!”</p><p>“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” She paused. “Where are you going dressed like that?” </p><p>“The Great Hall!” Oora supplied enthusiastically. “You thought last time was fun, the gatherings are always so much more extravagant after a big raid like this, when we’re drowning in Republic spoils. Better hurry if you’re coming with us, you can’t go like that!”</p><p>Going with them? Sola hadn’t even considered <em> how </em> she might go about taking her leave. Would she be allowed to bid her friends farewell first? She doubted it.  She would likely be expected to slip away and simply vanish into the darkness of space, as if she’d never even existed. </p><p>If that was the case, then this was the perfect time to go. No uncomfortable questions asked.</p><p>Then again, she’d never set terms for her departure. If she was to leave without another word, then there was no reason she couldn’t spend one last evening with Oora and Irami.</p><p>And see Marchion one last time.</p><p>“Do you have anything else?” Oora prompted as politely as she could.</p><p>Sola glanced down at what had become her uniform: leggings, a too-large tunic and a soft jacket. Oora had a point. This wouldn’t do for an extravagant get together, and if she were being honest with herself, she was getting rather sick of the ensemble. </p><p>“I do,” Sola replied, brightening at the thought of the lone clothing item that resided in the cabinet under her bed. Who knew what her life would be once she left. If she was only going to get one opportunity to wear it…</p><p>“It’s not…it’s not just another tunic is it?” Oora asked, wincing.</p><p>“No,” Sola laughed. “I promise, I won’t embarrass you or Irami.”</p><p>Oora laughed as well, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. She stepped out of the way and let Sola into the fresher to use the sonic shower. </p><p>By the time she reemerged, clean but unsatisfied - a small part of her longing for the proper water shower she’d had on Cyone - Oora was gone. Sola threw her sweat-soaked clothes onto the corner of her bed to deal with later. Now that she’d showered, she became keenly aware that they smelled vaguely of vomit and wondered how Marchion had felt compelled to kiss her right then.</p><p>Stars, was <em> that </em> the reason he’d left in such a hurry? Just to be safe, and to prevent a similar mishap, she dug around in one of Oora’s cabinets for her liquor reserves. She found a likely looking bottle of spotchka and took a small swig, both to rinse the taste of sick out of her mouth, and for some much-needed courage. The liquor burned pleasantly as it swished around in her mouth, before burning a far less enjoyable trail down her throat once she swallowed. She forgot how strong the Nihil liked their liquor.</p><p>At last it was time. Time for her to finally test out what she’d spent her idle hours working on over the last few weeks.</p><p>When she’d first begun navigating, and was in the midst of trying to sort out complicated calculations, she’d initially gone down to the galley to see about helping out there, or at least being allowed to use a corner of the kitchen, to throw herself into a mindless task. The ships chief cook, a short-tempered Aleena, refused her immediately and threw her out. In need of something to occupy her mind and her hands, she decided to stop putting off the inevitable and to finally try and mend the dress she’d arrived in. </p><p>After graciously accepting a mending kit from one of Irami’s friends, as well as a pair of scissors, she got to work. The sleeves, constricting and rigid, were removed first. Then the hem was shortened to reach the middle of her shin, since there was not enough fabric to let it out all the way to the floor. She also removed the stiff lining that gave it its full shape - “modest as befits a widow”, Tala had said - which made the skirt fall much more loosely against her legs. The skirt fanned out quite prettily when she turned, and she’d taken to twirling every time she tried it on, until Garran had nearly caught her and she’d had to hide in the fresher.</p><p>Fixing the bodice had proven her biggest challenge, in view of the way it had been abruptly torn open at the top. She supposed she ought to be thankful that Marchion had torn it down the middle instead of off to the side. From there, it became a matter of cleaning up the frayed edges and altering them into a V-shaped neckline, and in her boldness, adding a similar dip along the back of the dress. In her excitement at finding a solution to what she’d believed to be her biggest problem, she encountered a whole new one. Namely that she’d simply taken matters too far, and dropped the neckline too low. It was still covered enough  that she could wear a breastband - to go without would be out of the question - but just barely. </p><p>Nevertheless, after countless hours, untold torn stitches, and several painful jabs to the pads of her fingers, her dress was altered, and tonight would be her first occasion to wear it. </p><p>She slid into the black fabric, smiling widely as it clung in all the right places. It no longer felt too tight, or too small, or like a cast-off dress for a cast-off wife. She felt - dare she think it - pretty for once. She pinned her curls away from her temples, leaving her scar on full display, while the rest tumbled down her back. She lamented her lack of jewellery or cosmetics beyond the rouge she’d pilfered from Oora. But it would have to do. She slid into her boots, recently polished thankfully, and slipped out of the bunk, her heart drumming an excited tattoo against her ribs.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>He regretted attending the celebration the moment he set foot in the Great Hall. </p><p>He had never felt out of place among the Nihil before, nor had he ever questioned his position or authority. It shouldn’t matter what Garran had said. If resentment had been simmering among one of the Tempests for some time, then nothing had changed tonight. If anything it ought to be safer, the success of their raid on Republic ships putting everyone in good spirits. </p><p>Still, he could not help but view everyone with suspicion. Every glance his way was a plot brewing. Every move in his direction an attack about to strike. </p><p>He’d become too lax, he realized. This would never have happened when his father was Eye of the Nihil. The audacity of so blatant a threat even being issued in those days was unthinkable. How had it come to this? There were times Marchion lay awake, worried perhaps he’d done too much in taking all the Tempests directly under his leadership. With so many conflicting, incendiary  personalities confined to a single chain of command, the entire structure was likely to explode. If Garran was right, and he was allowed to see his plans through, the whole thing would combust sooner than Marchion was prepared to admit. </p><p>He would have to do something about it. Something to remind them all that he was still the Eye. That it was to him they owed their loyalty, and their deference. Once his Tempest Runners arrived, he would call the assembly to attention. </p><p>The entire affair was far more extravagant than their last gathering had been. This was how things had always been done after a significant raid. Under his father’s leadership, these had been the only times the Nihil would all gather like this. No expense had ever been spared - anything taken from the Republic was expected to more than cover the cost. Supply runs were made to nearby worlds friendly with the Nihil, or at the very least neutral to their dealings. But as such worlds became harder and harder to come by, so did the gatherings grow in number and extravagance. The smaller, louder, more casual gatherings were an invention of Marchion’s, a way for all to relieve tension as Republic hostilities increased.</p><p>But these celebrations of victory had taken on an almost mythic life of their own. The food was better, the drink and drugs of better quality. The dancing remained, but the music was marginally less aggressive. It was also an occasion for all to wear the finest clothing they had. This too, had been Marchion’s father’s doing. Once, the intention had been for the Nihil to proudly display the finery they had acquired off the raided Republic ship. In recent times, the colonists and encroachers who came out this far either had nothing, or did not bring it with them for fear of being raided. So the acquisition of new finery dwindled, but the desire to show off did not.</p><p>For his part, Marchion had traded his usual tunic out for a fitted jacked and a fur cape that was in better condition than the other he normally wore.  He had chosen the jacket partially because it looked formidable, but mostly because he’d had wide panels placed along the shoulders and chest. Though they appeared like detailing, they would deflect most projectiles or attacks aimed at his heart. He also wore short, leather vambraces, and carried his blaster. Perhaps it was paranoid of him. But combined with his dark transparisteel mask, it also made for an intimidating figure, and that was his chief goal.</p><p>He assumed his usual seat at his usual table, and surveyed the crowd, suspicion coursing through him. He spied Pan Eyta in the far corner, conversing with one of his Storms. The very moment the Dowutin spotted him, he abandoned his conversation to stand by the Eye. Marchion scoffed. Pan was loyal to the last. He had no reason to worry about him, or any under his command.</p><p>A loud cheer next called his attention to Lourna Dee, who was engaged in some kind of drinking game with a large group. A game she appeared to be winning. She was the rogue element. Willing enough to accept his leadership when it suited, and downright mutinous when it did not. If Garran had already spoken to her, she would have made her move. She hadn’t seemed reckless when Kassav was still alive but now? Now she was the most volatile. He allowed his head to visibly angle in her direction, and smiled behind his mask when Pan Eyta paused, nodded quickly, and changed direction to go collect her. </p><p>Then there was Garran. The sight of him chilled Marchion. He was seated nearby, totally alone. His position and attitude, Marchion supposed, was meant to be a reflection of his own. Solitary, watchful. In some sick twist, he even had three of his Storms standing guard behind him, a parody of the three Tempest Runners. Marchion sat perfectly still, fighting the urge to rise and confront him. He would have to play the long game, then. But that didn’t mean this evening would be entirely devoid of quick results. </p><p>He glanced down as Pan Eyta and Lourna Dee took their positions before him, but otherwise did not rise. Garran would fall in line tonight, or he would be made to feel the consequences, threats be damned. Fortunately, it seemed Garran did possess some common sense, and rose to join them, but not before watching them idly from his seat for a far longer period than could be explained away by mere inattention. Once he’d finally sauntered over, Marchion sat for a few moments more, making it unequivocally clear who was still in charge, before rising to his feet.</p><p>The assembly fell silent. It always did. </p><p>“Eight lives lost,” he bit out. “Eight gone in service of the Nihil. In service of all we stand for.”</p><p>There had been a nearly collective intake of breath when he began speaking, and no one dared exhale now. His eyes scanned out over the crowd, picking out faces both familiar and not. He unconsciously sought out Oora and Irami, because wherever they were, there was always a chance that-</p><p><em> There </em>.</p><p>Sola stood beside them, in a dress he’d never seen before. Her hair cascaded loosely over her shoulders, drawing his eyes to the pronounced V of her bodice that just hinted at the swell of her breasts. He snapped his attention back up to her face, to her full, slightly parted lips, which he now knew to be as soft as they appeared. Her warm eyes were fixed on him attentively, and he came back to himself, remembering he was in the middle of speaking.</p><p>Fortunately the pause seemed to have worked in his favour. No one had dared move, hanging on to his every breath.</p><p>“Let their sacrifice serve as further reminder of all the Republic has taken from us,” he continued. “Of all they will continue to take so long as they remain convinced that they hold the power here. We will continue to strike, to take, to fight until they return to their precious Core. We will avenge our fallen brethren.”</p><p>A raucous cheer went up as everyone toasted, breathing sighs of relief. This normally would have been where their leaders were called out, judged and executed. But he needed to play it cautious, no matter how much it shamed him to admit it. His father wouldn’t have understood it. He’d not been a patient man. But that was where Marchion differed. He swept back to his table, a wordless signal that dismissed his Tempest Runners. </p><p>Lourna returned to her game, Pan to his conversation. But Garran did not return to his solitary seat. Instead he strode confidently to the back of the room, seized Sola by the shoulders, and pulled her in for a long, rough kiss. His hands ran down her body, lingering over her curves, bunching the fabric of her skirt. The Mirialan then turned their bodies just enough that his eyes were able to meet Marchion’s across the crowd, leaving no doubt that at least some of this was for The Eye’s benefit.</p><p>Marchion saw red. </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>When Sola had arrived, she was surprised at how different the Great Hall felt. Nothing had fundamentally changed. The decor remained the same - the same long tables, the same torches providing light and warmth in the vacuum of space. But the energy was different. There was a wider variety of every kind of liquor imaginable, The music more like something she recognized. If she listened carefully she could even pick out an actual melody. Well, almost. The whole thing looked like a hybrid between the last Nihil gathering she’d attended and the sorts of society events she’d gone to with Aurel, before he decided he’d rather no longer be seen with her. </p><p>Perhaps this was a bad idea. She must look ridiculous, in so simple a dress when everyone else was dressed in furs and wore actual jewellery, or ornate masks. </p><p>“Where have you been?” Oora exclaimed, her hand shooting out to seize Sola’s wrist and pull her forward. Sola yelped and stumbled forward. Oora looked Sola over.</p><p>“This is nice! Where did you find this?”</p><p>“I made it,” Sola explained self-consciously, as her hands tried to smooth out the skirt. “Out of my old dress.”</p><p>“Your mourning dress?” Irami interjected. She whistled when Sola nodded. “Harsh.”</p><p>“I don’t see why,” Sola said, defensive. “I think it looks better this way.”</p><p>“Oh, no disagreements here,” Irami said, clearly impressed. “Perhaps there is something of a Nihil in you, after all.”</p><p>Sola smiled, but it quickly faded. It figured that the moment she stopped feeling like an outsider would also be just as she chose to leave.</p><p>Sola scanned the crowd as they moved further inward, in Oora’s quest to get them drinks.</p><p>“Garran’s near the front,” Oora volunteered. “We can find him after.”</p><p>“Uh huh,” was all Sola said in reply. How was she going to explain that she couldn’t care less where Garran was at the moment or that she’d rather he was far away? Her attention was reserved solely for the man she now spotted at the high table. Marchion wore a new, darker mask, freshly painted with the sigil of the Eye. His jacket, she could see from here, sat slightly open, just hinting at the bare, smooth, grey skin beneath, his chest looking just as defined as his arms. Sola’s mouth went dry, a problem she quickly attempted to rectify by chugging the drink Oora slipped into her hand. She only coughed once or twice as her body processed the speed with which she’d ingested an entire mug of ale.</p><p>“Would you look at that,” Irami said with the air of a proud parent. “She learns so fast.”</p><p>“You’re right,” Oora said, similarly moved. “We’ll make something of her yet.”</p><p>Irami took the mug away from Sola as Oora replaced it with another, stronger drink. Then a hush fell over all assembled. The music ceased. Marchion rose and began to speak.</p><p>His words cast a spell over all assembled as they remembered the fallen. She found herself similarly enthralled, and unable to tear her eyes away from him. He spoke only a few words before falling silent, perhaps to let the weight of what he said settle in. It was likely her imagination, but she could have sworn that his face was trained directly on her. Her breath caught in her chest, releasing only once he’d begun speaking again. Heat rose in her body, and she sipped at her new drink, if only to have something to do. </p><p>The crowd burst into a cheer as he concluded speaking. She was so lost in thought, it took her a few seconds to notice that someone had laid hands on her and was kissing her, and grabbing at her skirt.</p><p>“Mmmf, what- Garran?” she said. She fidgeted out of his grasp. </p><p>“I feel like I’ve been waiting forever to see you, baby,” he rasped. </p><p>“Here I am,” she said. Her hands planted on his arms and locked in place, subtly preventing him from pulling her in for another kiss. She was in no mood for his rough, egotistical attentions to wash away the memory of how softly yet desperately Marchion had kissed her. </p><p>His eyes flickered over her shoulder for a moment, but before she could turn her head, he called her attention back to him. </p><p>“Let’s dance.”</p><p>“Fine,” Sola replied. If Marchion wanted to see her, he could come find her. She’d spent too many years of her life waiting for the affection of an uninterested man, and she would play this game no longer. She downed the last of her drink, set the glass down, and allowed herself to be led away.</p><p>Garran pulled her close, and led her through a close, slow, sway of a dance that was far less frantic than at the last gathering. He leaned in close enough that she could feel his breath on her ear. </p><p>“Something’s changed, Sola,” Garran said.</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“I mean you. Something is different about you.”</p><p>“It’s the dress,” she said. She was stalling, playing dumb. The insinuation in his tone made her nervous.</p><p>“Hmmm.” </p><p>He spun her around on the floor, then pulled her close once again.</p><p>“I do have to wonder,” he said, snidely. “What prompted the change of clothing? The choice of so revealing a dress? This can’t just be for me can it?”</p><p>“If you have something to say, Garran, I suggest you say it.” The heat had returned to her face, but the flush was far less pleasant. She could feel herself getting angry, her vision blurring in rage. </p><p>“Fine,” he bit out, as his fingers dug into her possessively. “What’s going on between you and the Eye?”</p><p>“Nothing.” Sola said at once. She refused to think about the kiss. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing any hint of it on her face. </p><p>“You make it a habit of calling one man by the name of another then? Don’t lie to me, Sola. You were expecting him to come find you after the raid.”</p><p>“Speaking of lying,” Sola hissed, “how is it <em> you </em> were able to come find me so quickly? Weren’t you meant to be out there with the rest of them? With the ones who gave their lives on what I assume were your orders?”</p><p>“Don’t speak of things you don’t understand. What would you know about any of it? You can live among us for a few weeks as a hostage, but don’t presume to understand how these things work.”</p><p>“Oh of course not. What would I know about the workings of the Nihil, having done nothing but observe?” she replied sarcastically. “But the one thing I do understand is that you seem determined to pull me in the middle of whatever game you have going with the Eye, and I want no part of it any longer.”</p><p>“You don’t know what you’re talking about."</p><p>“Don’t I? Fine. Then swear to me you aren’t just using me because you believe it will grant you easier access to the Eye.”</p><p>“Marchion,” Garran said, suddenly.</p><p>“Of course, Marchion! Is there anoth-?”</p><p>“Excuse me,” Marchion interrupted.</p><p>Sola spun out of Garran’s relaxed grip and came face to face with Marchion’s chin. She tilted her face upward and saw his dark eyes fixed on Garran behind her. </p><p>“Do you mind?” he asked him. Sola didn’t see how Garran responded to the strange query, she only saw Marchion flicker his eyes down to her instead. “And you?”</p><p>“Me?” she asked. Something wavered on the edge of her vision. Looking down, she saw one of his hands was extended towards her. She hesitantly placed her hand in his palm. A fine job she was doing of convincing Garran there was nothing going on between them. </p><p><em> I don’t care </em>, she realized, surprised.</p><p>The rush of warmth that shot up her arm as he enclosed her hand in his fingers was enough to convince her of that. Someone huffed behind her. She peeked long enough to see Garran disappear into the crowd. She relaxed.</p><p>“Are you alright?” Marchion asked, leading her in a smoother version of the same dance she’d done with Garran. </p><p>“I am. He just- I don’t know what he wants anymore. I don’t think he does either.”</p><p>“I’m not talking about Garran, Sola,” Marchion said. “I saw the footage of the cockpit. I know what happened out there made you sick.”</p><p>“Oh.” So he had noticed that. And kissed her anyway. “Yes, I’m fine. I’ve- I’ve never seen anyone die before, and knowing I was at fault…”</p><p>Her head began to spin. Without thinking, she rested it on his shoulder.</p><p>“You were <em> not </em> at fault,” he murmured, the rumble of his chest soothing her. “It was the fault of whichever fool of a Storm sent them out to die, and when I get to the bottom of it, I promise they will pay the price.”</p><p>“You’ll kill them you mean,” she said, lifting her head.</p><p>“You think me a monster.” It wasn’t a question.</p><p>“I don’t, actually. I’ve seen beings who find plenty of unexpected ways to harm one another, and violate the trust of those around them when they do. At least the Nihil are…honest. There is an understanding of what the price of failure is. No one goes into it unaware.”</p><p>“You continue to surprise me.”</p><p>“As you continue to fascinate me.”</p><p>He spun her around, more carefully than Garran had, then pulled her back into the security of his arms. Their faces were agonizingly close. If she just leaned up slightly-</p><p>“Marchion-” she began.</p><p>“Sola,” he interrupted. “I have to know.”</p><p>“What is it?” she said, curiosity winning out over her other desires.</p><p>His hand fixed against her waist, as though afraid she would disappear before he could speak.</p><p>“The final thing on the security feed. When Garran found you after the Emergence. It wasn’t his name you said.”</p><p>She tensed.</p><p>“No. I thought it might have been you.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I wanted it to be.”</p><p>He held her closer and guided her through the last few steps of the dance without a word. The music changed, a new dance began, and yet he kept his hold on her. </p><p>“Is it still your wish to leave?” he asked her suddenly. </p><p>If he had asked her to pick a favourite star in the sky, it would have been a simpler question. She couldn’t be a part of this any longer. She <em> knew </em> that. Yet she would always feel a fool if she turned her back on whatever this was between them. Never in her life had anyone made her feel the way she felt now, a thousand butterflies fluttering in her chest and stomach. </p><p>"I can't stay. The work I do, it's going to catch up to me. It's going to <em>break</em> me, if I continue to be a part of such destruction."</p><p>Every word she said was true, yet she couldn't help the way her voice caught with sadness as she admitted to him - and to herself - that to stay would be impossible. </p><p>“Why do you ask?” she added after a moment.</p><p>“It doesn’t matter.”</p><p>“It does to me,” she insisted. </p><p>“I don’t believe it’s any secret that I desire you. That you haunt my thoughts even when you aren’t around. That you are-”</p><p>“Intoxicating?” she supplied. In truth, she was rather taken aback by his confession. Her heart hammered in her chest so loudly, she could hear it keeping time with the music.</p><p>“Exactly. And so I mean to offer you a choice.”</p><p>“What choice is that?”</p><p>“I have made arrangements to give you a small craft and some funds. Enough to convey you anywhere you wish to go and begin your life again.”</p><p>“I can’t take your credits-” she began.</p><p>“They are <em> your </em> credits,” he emphasized. “They would not have been earned without you.”</p><p>“I see. And the other choice?”</p><p>“Stay.”</p><p>“That’s all? Stay?”</p><p>“Yes,” he said. But he was keeping something from her. She could see it.</p><p>“What do you really want, Marchion?”</p><p>“What <em>I</em> want? I want you to return to the <em> Gaze Electric </em> as soon as you are able, to have Pak escort you to my quarters, and for you to be ready for me when I arrive.” </p><p>Oh.</p><p>The soft-spoken command shot straight through her. The image of her waiting for Marchion in his quarters, for him to do as he would with her caused a delicious throb in her lower abdomen.</p><p>She laid a hand on his chest, her finger brushing against the exposed skin.</p><p>“I want that too.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It was at this point my beta reader texted me and said "love the Beauty and the Beast vibes! I can't believe I didn't see it before"</p><p>Reader, neither had I...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“If you wish to leave, you may do so. I have no interest in keeping you against your will.”</p><p>As if to demonstrate the sincerity of his words, he stepped away from her and turned his back, walking away and unfastening his jacket as he did. </p><p>“I don’t,” she said at last. “Wish to leave, that is.”</p><p>Marchion chuckled. “Then put the dress down and get on the bed.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Alright. This is it. It's time.</p><p>No excuses. Just smut. </p><p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The <em> Gaze Electric </em> was deathly quiet when Sola arrived on board. Not that it was generally a raucous place, but nevertheless, the silence was eerie. The air felt full of sparks and it made Sola’s skin tingle in anticipation.</p><p>Pak guided her to the ready room, much to her confusion. It wasn’t until he’d pressed a button and a panel along the back wall slid away that she understood. He motioned for her to continue on alone. She stepped into the corridor beyond.</p><p>“You’ll come to a staircase,” Pak explained. “It’s 15 steps to the bottom.”</p><p>He waited for her to advance far enough that she found the first step, then let the door close, bathing her in total darkness.</p><p>She counted fifteen steps down, then held her hands out on either side, to guide herself down the lower hallway. She reached a corner and turned right, then dropped her hands. A faint light at the end of the hallway, warm like the flames of the Great Hall, guided her to her destination. There was no passcode required to enter once she’d arrived. The door merely slid open to admit her to the dark chamber beyond. </p><p>She was standing in a large office, ornately furnished. She peered around curiously as she moved further into the room. A series of masks lined the wall, some of which she recognized. Marchion’s office, then. Naturally. But surely he didn’t mean to have her on his desk?</p><p>A second door stood open to her left, illuminated by the  same faint, flame-like lights that lit the office and the outside corridor. Through it she could see a wooden bedpost. That was her destination then.</p><p>She entered the bedchamber, made quick note of the attached fresher, then moved into the rest of the room. The bed was massive, larger than any she’d ever seen, and took up most of the room. In the corner, up by the window that made up the far wall, there was a single seat and a small table. Should she perhaps sit there and wait for him?</p><p><em> Be ready for me when I arrive </em>, he’d said. It wouldn’t do to await him as though they had a business meeting then. She fought the aggressive hammering of her heart, and the shaking of her hands. </p><p>She toed off her boots and nudged them under the small table, then removed her hairpins and set them on top.</p><p>She reached around her back with shaking fingers and worked her dress open. It fell open and pooled around her ankles in a puddle. She stepped out and folded it on the seat, suddenly very aware of her state of undress.</p><p>Now all she could do was wait.</p><p>Sola glanced up and caught a glimpse of herself against the large viewport. The reflection was faint, created only by the low lighting within Marchion’s quarters. She took in the curved shape of her legs, the soft roll of her midsection, and her heart sank. Her breasts, still held by her breastband, were full in the way she’d been told all men desired, but which she found to be untrue in practice. She felt a wave of bitterness and anger at the memory of Tala, who’d once told her breasts like hers were unnatural in a woman who had yet to bear children, and subjected her to a rather mortifying visit to a medic “just to check”. </p><p>What was she thinking? She was in no mood to be humiliated again. She crossed to the soft seat and found her clothing.</p><p>“Leaving already?”</p><p>She froze, clutching her dress to her chest. </p><p>“Did I not make it clear that you were to be ready for me when I arrived?” Marchion continued, his voice growing louder as he moved closer to her.</p><p>“You did,” she said quietly.</p><p>“So what do you call this?” He placed his warm palms on her shoulders and spun her around to face him. He trailed one finger along the soft fabric she held up in front of her body. Her eyes adjusted enough that she could see how close he still was. She stared down, unable to meet the intensity of his gaze, even in the semi-dark.</p><p>“Look at me, Sola,” Marchion said firmly. Unable to resist the sound of his voice, especially when he softened it for her, she looked up. “If you wish to leave, you may do so. I have no interest in keeping you against your will.”</p><p>As if to demonstrate the sincerity of his words, he stepped away from her and turned his back, walking away and unfastening his jacket as he did. It was partially that sincerity, and partially the strength of her own feelings - in spite of her panic - that made her mind up for her.</p><p>“I don’t,” she said at last. “Wish to leave, that is.”</p><p>Marchion chuckled. “Then put the dress down and get on the bed.”</p><p>She dropped it at once and padded over to the bed quickly. It really was ridiculously large, larger than one, or even two people could possibly need. Unsure of where exactly to go, she sat towards the foot of the bed and pulled her knees up to her chest, determined to keep herself hidden from judgemental glances as long as possible.</p><p>Marchion turned back around, now divested of his jacket and boots, though he still wore his fitted pants. Sola’s mouth went dry. He was quite the specimen, all broad shoulders and hard, defined muscles. His arms she’d seen before, but had never fully appreciated how, frankly, beautiful his chest was as well. The stone grey skin was smooth, and she found herself longing to explore him with her hands.</p><p>“Well, this won’t do,” he chided. “Let me see you.”</p><p>Sola hesitantly stretched out her legs, and at a glance from Marchion uncrossed her arms as well. She sat up straighter, the better to stop her stomach from folding in on itself, as it sometimes did. Marchion stepped closer, and motioned with his head for her to move back on the bed. She scrambled backwards as delicately as she was able. Marchion reached out, and placed his hands on her knees, drawing them away from one another so he could kneel between her legs. After a tense, uncertain moment, he pushed her back and began running his hands up and down her thighs, squeezing at the soft flesh. So Sola did one of the worst things she could have done at that moment. </p><p>She tensed.</p><p>“Sola?” he said.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” she said at once. He said nothing. Her cheeks burned with shame. He was angry, she knew it. He must be. Aurel would have been.</p><p>“Are you alright?” he asked instead, stunning her so thoroughly she was rendered temporarily speechless.</p><p>“I- it’s fine.”</p><p>“You’ll have to do better than that,” he said sternly. It had not gone unnoticed by her that he’d sat back and removed his hands from her body. She sat back up and curled her knees against her chest again. </p><p>“I’m sorry, I- I’m nervous.”</p><p>“Are you afraid of me?” His voice was quiet, almost gentle.</p><p>“No. This just feels different…than before.”</p><p>Marchion paused. “Do you trust me?”</p><p>She considered for a moment. The kindness in his voice. The way he’d held her as they danced. Most importantly, the trust he’d put in her when he had everything to lose.</p><p>“I do,” she said. </p><p>“Good.”</p><p>He leaned in closer and cradled her cheek, the way he had in the brig. In the cockpit. The same reassuring gesture that never failed to put her at ease. </p><p>Then at last, he captured her mouth with his own.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Perhaps it was the anticipation of finally having her in his bed that made him so eager. She’d always seemed so bold, so unwavering in her wants, particularly with the pod. But there was a vulnerability to her position now, one he hadn’t taken into account. </p><p>For one brief, horrifying moment, he’d thought he scared her away entirely, until she’d said she trusted him. That was all he needed.</p><p>Her lips were soft and full, and tasted faintly sweet. He brushed her curls out of the way and slid his hand around to the back of her head. He pressed slightly against the seam of her lips and she allowed them to part, their tongues swirling together in a mix of fruit, spices and liquor. She sighed and let her eyes close. The ultimate sign of trust. </p><p>He broke away from her and pulled her closer until she was straddling his lap, the soft fabric of his pants rubbing against the supple skin on the inside of her thighs. He let her get comfortable, happy to simply watch her. Comfortably situated, she considered him in turn, brushing his hair back from where it had fallen in his eyes.</p><p>“Sola,” he began. “When I asked you to stay, I didn’t-”</p><p>“Not now, Marchion,” she whispered. “Don’t spoil the moment.”</p><p>“But-”</p><p>“Shh. Not now.”</p><p>She pulled him in for a kiss. If she wanted to stop him from talking, to make him forget what he’d been about to say, then she succeeded. He let her set the pace and retain her control, letting her rest her hands on him and dot his mouth with the softest, most experimental of kisses. She never lingered, as if she didn’t want to press her luck. Marchion ran an appreciative hand along her curves, coming to rest at her hip.</p><p>“Absolutely beautiful,” he said. </p><p>She looked ready to curl within herself again as his eyes took in her body.  Sola gave him a small smile, like she wasn’t sure if she should believe him. Never one to refuse a challenge, Marchion decided to show her he meant what he said. He brought his lips to her throat next, mouthing softly at her pulse point. He smiled against her as he felt her arms tentatively slide up and encircle his shoulders. Encouraged, he trailed light kisses along her jaw, and down to the base of her throat. She let her head tilt backwards slightly, and she was pressing her chest against his, the silky material of her breastband brushing against his skin. </p><p>“Still trust me, Sola?”</p><p>“Yes,” she whispered.</p><p>“I want to touch you. Will you let me?”</p><p>Was it his imagination, or had every muscle in her body tensed at his words. He waited for what felt like an eternity before she finally nodded.</p><p>“Yes. I want you to.”</p><p>He went slowly. Slowly enough that he was becoming acutely aware of the growing discomfort of his hardening cock. But it wouldn’t do to rush. Beyond her nerves, he had waited long enough for this, and intended to make it last. </p><p>One hand slid off her hip and down her thigh. He spread his own legs a little, forcing hers to spread even wider. He kissed her again, deeply, as his hand stroked her leg, wandering higher and higher until it was at the juncture of her thigh and hip. His fingers crept forward and brushed lightly over her mound. She gasped softly, then quickly bit down on her lower lip.</p><p>“Don’t,” he said.</p><p>“Sorry,” she said with such speed yet again that Marchion was almost positive she never knew quite why she was apologizing.</p><p>He pressed against the fabric, gently parting her folds enough to lay a single finger against her little bundle of nerves. </p><p>“Don’t stop yourself. I want to hear you,” he murmured against her ear. “Can you do that for me?”</p><p>“Yes. Sorry.<em> ” </em> she said, her breath shallow.</p><p>“And no apologizing while you’re at it. You have nothing to be sorry for.”</p><p>“Sor-“ Sola stopped short. “OK. No more apologies.”</p><p>He pressed his finger against her again, and was pleased to hear her small moan of pleasure.</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>He circled her clit gently as he kissed her, swallowing every shallow gasp of hers. His other fingers lay across her panties, ghosting over her entrance but never making contact. </p><p>“Sola,” he said, pressing slightly now, “do you want my fingers?”</p><p>Her hips rolled into his hand, but he was still not giving her any kind of satisfactory contact. </p><p>“Yes,” she sighed at last. “Marchion, I- <em> oh.” </em></p><p>She broke off with another quiet moan as he pulled the thin fabric to the side and pushed into her heat  with one finger. He rocked his hand, coating the digit in her slick and slowly sank into her until he reached his knuckle. </p><p>“How does that feel?”</p><p>“Mmm. Feels good,” she hummed, her inner walls clenching once around him. Her face tilted upwards, her eyes floated closed.</p><p>“So responsive to my touch,” he said, smiling. He stroked along her walls, biding his time and helping her relax until she started tentatively rolling her hips in tandem with his hand. He resumed kissing her neck, while she worked out a rhythm she liked, her movements becoming more and more erratic.</p><p>“I-,” she gasped out, still rocking her hips with her head arched further back. “More. Please.”</p><p>“Slow down, sweetheart, let me give you what you need.”</p><p>Sola went still. </p><p>“Sweetheart?” Sola whispered, smiling in spite of herself, a smile Marchion returned with a kiss.</p><p>He worked a second finger into her. He pumped them lazily, curling them once in a while to draw a sigh from Sola’s lips. His thumb swept over her clit and made her hips jerk. He circled it gently, not wanting to rush. He was enjoying the beautiful eroticism of watching her unravel before his eyes, and at his doing, even if the strain in his pants was becoming harder to ignore.</p><p>Her legs began to shake as his fingers curled more and more within her. She moaned and pressed her face against his shoulder, obscuring it from view, as she matched the speed of his hand with her hips. He lifted his other hand and used it to cup her cheek and guide her gaze upwards. She still did her best to shield her face from him, as if embarrassed.</p><p>“No, let me see you,” he whispered. “You look so beautiful like this.”</p><p>Their lips met again, but only for a moment, as Marchion’s attentions turned more insistent. Her forehead touched his, and though her eyes remained shut, his were open and drinking in the sight of her face contorting as her body chased pleasure. However often he had imagined her in this way, he saw now that it paled in comparison to the reality before him.</p><p>“Marchion,” she whispered, pleading. “Please don’t stop.”</p><p>There was a note of genuine worry in her voice, as though she thought he might simply bring her to the edge and leave her hanging. Her breathing quickened and her body began to clench around him. Her eyes flew open in surprise and locked with his as her orgasm took her, each wave punctuated with a soft gasp. He stroked her gently as she came down, and finally withdrew, letting her slump forward against him. </p><p>“You have no idea how long I’ve thought about this,” he murmured into her hair, his fingers stroking her spine. </p><p>“You’ve thought about <em> this </em>?” she asked weakly. </p><p>“Well, not <em> just </em> this.”</p><p>Sola seemed to hesitate again. She sat up, her eyes reading his face for any trace of irony. Finding none, she simply said:</p><p>“What else?”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Sola had always believed she had a good imagination, but now all she could think was that she had thoroughly overestimated her own abilities. For whatever she’d imagined being touched by Marchion Ro would feel like, the reality far exceeded it. She was grateful that he was supporting her, because her legs felt weak and shaky. Then he told her he’d been thinking about this for some time, among other things, and she was astonished she didn’t faint altogether. </p><p>The afterglow of her climax relaxed her in a way she hadn’t expected. Generally, once she’d hit her peak, things were brought to a conclusion. However, Marchion, who was mouthing at the soft skin at the top of her breasts, seemed just as keen on continuing as she was.</p><p>“This,” he said, reaching up and pulling lightly at the strap on her shoulder, his teeth scraping lightly over her. “Take this off.”</p><p>She bent her arms behind her back to reach for the clasp, her heart pounding in her chest. Aurel had barely taken an interest in seeing her fully naked after the first year, and Garran had never once asked her to remove her breastband, nor did he seem interested in the idea. With shaking hands, she unfastened the garment and slid it off, discarding it with a careful toss.</p><p>She had never been especially comfortable with her breasts, hating their shape and size and wishing for all she was worth that they were smaller and more delicate. But the way Marchion was looking at them now was enough to make her believe that they were possibly the most enticing sight in the entire galaxy.</p><p>“Now this,” he said, brushing his thumbs over her nipples, “I have thought about since that first day I showed you how the pod works.”</p><p>“You mean the day you unceremoniously ripped my dress?” she giggled, her breath hitching at the way he teased the sensitive, puckered skin. </p><p>“I did you a favour, that dress was hideous.” He cupped her breasts in his hands and massaged them gently. Where they felt large and overwhelming in her palms, they fit his perfectly. She sighed and leaned into his touch.</p><p>“You don’t seem to mind what I did with it, though.”</p><p>She smiled and flushed at the memory of how he’d reacted in the Great Hall, how she was certain he’d paused his speech because she caught his attention. But her mirth was cut short by the brush of his lips against her ear. </p><p>“I liked how you looked tonight well enough,” he said. “But I think I like you best like this.” Sola blushed furiously, grateful for the darkness that obscured her flaming cheeks. To emphasize his point he slid his hands down her stomach and around to her back, bringing them to rest on her ass.</p><p>“Lie back on the bed,” he ordered, digging into her skin with his fingers for the briefest moment, hard enough to leave a mark.</p><p>She climbed off his lap and did as he asked, lying in the centre of the mattress. The fur pelts that adorned it felt soft against her skin and she was tempted to wrap herself in them to ward off the chill caused by his absence. He stood up and turned back to face her. She could just see the glint of his eyes in the near-total darkness, could practically feel the heat of his gaze over her naked body. As she lay on the bed, she fought the inclination to cover herself again, feeling extremely exposed. Instead she did her best to meet his eyes.</p><p>He removed the rest of his clothing quickly and lifted himself above her, pinning her wrists overhead with one hand while the other snaked back between her folds to tease her again. His cock, hot and hard with want, pressed against her thigh. She hadn’t gotten a proper look at him, but she could feel how big he was. She trembled at the thought, wondering if she would be able to take all of him. </p><p>The space between her legs grew damp again, and she chafed as he touched her through the thin material. Her back arched into his touch, and she hummed in delight. He sat back on his heels, his hands cruelly abandoning her body. She kept her wrists over her head where he’d left them, and watched him.</p><p>“You still want this?” he asked.</p><p>“Yes,” she said, “I want-”</p><p>Without waiting for her to finish, he ripped the last layer of fabric that separated them off her body.</p><p>“Look at yourself.” He ran his hands along her legs, drawing them up so they bent at the knee, then pulling them apart to make room for himself. “Stretched out naked with your legs spread. And all for me.”</p><p>“Well I’ve thought about this for a while, too,” she whispered.</p><p>“What was that?” Marchion said, his tone indicating that he’d heard her perfectly. He lowered himself again and pressed two fingers into her core, making her cry out. </p><p>“Since I got here,” she groaned, as he stroked deeper into her, “I’ve wondered what it would be like, if I gave myself to you.”</p><p>He removed his hand, and replaced it with the head of his cock, which just teased at her entrance. </p><p>“Let’s not keep you wondering then,” he growled. He pressed forward slightly, and Sola winced. He really was bigger than she was used to. Her wrists dropped from above her head and settled on his shoulders. Her fingernails dug into the hard muscles.</p><p>“I’m alright,” she whispered at his concerned look.</p><p>“Just relax, Sola,” he said, more gently than before and giving her a kiss to match it. “I’ll go carefully. I won’t hurt you.”</p><p>He slowly rocked his hips, pushing a little deeper each time. Through it all, he kept up a steady stream of soft kisses and quiet praise, until at last he was fully sheathed within her and their hips lay flush. </p><p>Sola was breathless with the stretch. Her eyes were screwed shut, her head burrowed against his shoulder, and her arms clinging onto his back. Her walls clenched around him in vain. She’d never felt so full, such a delicious mix of pain and exquisite pleasure.</p><p>“I think I need a second,” she muttered against him. She eased her head back down to the bed. </p><p>“Take as long as you need,” he assured her. “You’re doing so well. I want you to enjoy this too.” </p><p>He was caressing her with one hand and supporting himself on the other arm. A broad, beautifully muscled arm. She let her fingertips wander from his back to idly trace the definition on his bicep.</p><p>The way he was looking at her took her breath away. Like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. She shivered. She felt both powerful and incredibly fragile. His hand trailed up from her hip and brushed stray hair from her eyes again, his fingers lingering over her scar. Her heart thudded in her chest in a way that had nothing to do with physical exertion.</p><p>And his eyes. How had she ever thought them soulless, when they looked at her now with such heat and passion, mingled with something else she was too afraid to name.</p><p>She shifted around underneath him, wrapped her legs around his hips, then nodded in response to his quizzical brow. He drew out, then slid back inside her carefully. When she didn’t tell him to stop, he repeated the languorous thrust, which drew a long, breathy moan from her.</p><p>“Is this alright?” he asked her.</p><p>“Perfect,” Sola sighed. “This is perfect.”</p><p>He deviated not once, rolling his hips against her in the same slow, careful way. The only sounds that filled the air were their frequent expressions of bliss, often muffled behind joined lips, and the sounds of their skin making contact. There was none of the mechanical obligation-driven sex that Aurel had provided, nor was there the hurried fuck she would get from Garran. This was tender, measured, passionate, their bodies so tightly intertwined it felt truly as if they’d become one person. It wasn’t just a race to the end for him, either. There was such a focus on her, and her pleasure, with every few thrusts being accompanied by a gentle kiss to her neck, her jaw, her cheek. </p><p>This, then, was what it felt like to actually make love.</p><p>The thought alone made her walls clench again. His powerful arms were properly braced on either side of her as he drove into her, still with the slow pace she’d asked for. How was a man who looked so built for destruction able to handle her with such care? </p><p>She leaned up and kissed him hard, deeply, carding her fingers through his soft, dark hair. She knew a night like this would never happen again. Tomorrow, he would retreat into becoming the Eye once more, when the cloud of victory and celebration had faded, and by then she would be gone. He would be the leader of the Nihil, she would be no one of consequence and this would be only a memory. </p><p>But for tonight, they belonged only to each other. She intended to savour every second she spent in his arms.</p><p>A pressure began to build in her abdomen, and she broke away from him with a cry. Her hips moved quicker to meet his thrusts, seeking increased friction.</p><p>“Are you getting close, Sola?” he grunted against her lips.</p><p>“Yes.” She moaned as her body arched, confirming her words. “Touch me, Marchion. Please.” </p><p>His hand slipped between them, his finger pressing at her clit. She gasped sharply as the sensation heightened exponentially.</p><p>“You like that?” Marchion muttered in her ear. “That enough to make you come?”</p><p>She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer. In a delirious bid to thank him for the way he was making her feel, her lips trailed along his shoulders, his neck, his jaw. Soft kisses routinely interrupted by a short cry as pleasure jolted through her body.</p><p>“You feel so good, Sola. So perfect. I should have taken you like this right then, that first day.”</p><p>“I would have let you,” she gasped, falling back against the bed. Her breath was coming in faster as the sensation became too much to bear. “I wanted you to.”</p><p>Spurred by the mutual confession of long-simmering sentiment, everything became more intense. It was a flurry of hands touching, of lips seeking each other out, of sweat-soaked bodies pressing impossibly close to one another in a frantic intimacy.</p><p>Sola’s climax slammed into her, and she gasped out Marchion’s name with every wave that coursed through her body. Behind her closed eyes, she swore she could see stars dancing, each as bright and radiant as he had made her feel. He thrust into her through her aftershocks, then finally came apart inside her and collapsed on her chest, breathing just as hard as she was. </p><p>He eased out of her, and rolled onto his back, giving her some space. When she’d come back to herself, and the haze of her bliss had faded somewhat, Sola eased herself off the bed. She walked carefully towards the fresher she’d spotted when she first arrived, feeling his spend dripping down her thighs. Marchion said nothing, merely watching as she crossed the dark room. His gaze followed her, prickling at her senses. </p><p>The moment she stepped into the frankly enormous fresher and saw herself in the warm light, her self-confidence vanished. Gone was the woman who’d brought the Eye of the Nihil to his knees, and in her place stood a disheveled mess no man would look at twice. She crossed her arms over her chest. It was all affection in the moment, but now that he could see her properly, without being blinded by arousal and mystery? For all that he’d been thinking about this for a while, she had no doubt he wouldn’t want to repeat the experience. He would have gotten her out of his system.</p><p>When she returned, she hovered near the bed, unsure of what to do. Usually, this would be the part where she was left alone, but these weren’t her quarters. Perhaps he’d want her to leave, but should she tell him before she did?</p><p>“What are you doing, Sola?”</p><p>She jumped. He’d been so quiet when she returned, his breathing so even, she’d assumed he’d fallen asleep. </p><p>“I just- I was going to leave, I thought you might want me to.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Now that we’ve- now you’re finished with me, I thought-”</p><p>“Who said I was finished with you? I intend on having you as many times as you’ll let me.”</p><p>“Oh.” It was a small mercy her knees didn’t give in right there.</p><p>“But if you’re no longer willing, you may, of course, leave.”</p><p>Sola didn’t move. It wasn’t that she was unwilling. She would likely be thinking about this night for years to come. Her treacherous body already warmed at the memory, in spite of the growing soreness between her legs. </p><p>But for her to actually <em> stay the night </em>? For him to still want her here when his needs had already been met? This was new.</p><p>“Well?” he asked, sitting up and lounging against the headboard, his powerful frame cutting an imposing figure even in the semi-darkness.</p><p>“I’m not unwilling,” she said, whispering still.</p><p>“Louder, Sola,” he said, standing. </p><p>She repeated herself more audibly, praying for her voice not to shake. By then he stood before her. She forced herself to look up away from his broad, bare chest and towards his face, partially obscured by his hair, messy and unbound. </p><p>He lifted her easily, one arm at her back, the other behind her knees, and deposited her on the bed. </p><p>“Get some rest,” he said. He slid back into his pants and left the room, leaving Sola reeling.</p><p><em> Oh, I see </em> , she thought, sliding under the heavy fur-laden blanket, suddenly too tired to protest. <em> It’s a convenience thing </em>. </p><p>Her assumption was somewhat incorrect, as Marchion did return a few minutes later, resuming his seat against the headboard. She peered at him over her shoulder and saw him staring contemplatively at the ceiling, lost in thought. He caught wind of her stare and turned quickly to look at her. She whipped her gaze around and faced ahead, unwilling to be seen staring or mooning over him now.</p><p>She was used to being left alone after sex. Garran never stuck around. And certainly Aurel never wanted her company any longer than absolutely necessary. Marchion hadn’t left her alone, or asked her to leave, but somehow being outright ignored felt so much worse. But why should she be surprised? Even if he had thoroughly pleasured her in a way no one else ever had, of course he didn’t want to look at her right now. Here they were, <em> in the same bed </em>, and all he could do was stare upwards.</p><p>Her thoughts were irrational. They had no basis in anything he’d said, or done. But it didn’t make her feel any less used, or worthless, and it didn’t stop tears from pooling behind her closed eyelids, and creeping down her face unbidden.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Marchion had only disappeared for a moment. He had much to consider after the events of the day, and the raid in particular. The data in his office was proof of that, and he meant to consult it briefly while Sola got comfortable in bed, rather than hovering over her. Yet now he had paused his contemplation, and was listening carefully.</p><p><em> There it is again </em>, he thought. The strangest sound. A sniff. Like someone was crying. But surely-</p><p>He peered back down at Sola. She was curled up tightly under the covers, as though trying to make herself as small as possible. The sound had definitely come from her. </p><p>What had come over her? She’d consented to stay. So then why? Because he hadn’t taken her into his arms and held her, perhaps? None of his other partners had ever especially cared what he did while they recovered. In fact, a few had even told him they would rather be left alone. Then again, they had all known him better. Held somewhat equal footing with him. And none of them had ever been so…<em> vulnerable. </em></p><p>He couldn’t leave her like this. It wasn’t right, and it would taint all their future encounters. And he planned on making love to her as much as possible before she left.. </p><p>He stood carefully, pulled back the covers of his bed and slid in closer to Sola. How could he have been so dense? She was clearly the type who enjoyed soft touches and caresses. Her responsiveness to such things earlier that night told him as much. With that in mind, he wrapped one of his arms around her, resting his head on the other, and pulled her into his chest.</p><p>She tensed at once, as did he. Had he misread the entire situation? Was there another cause for her tears? He gently kissed the top of her head, an automatic response that miraculously made her relax slightly.</p><p>“Sola,” he said. “Are you in pain?”</p><p>“No,” she said, shaking her head for emphasis. Her voice shook. </p><p>“Do you want me to go?” He began to withdraw. She clamped onto his forearm with both her hands.</p><p>“Stay,” she whispered at last. “Please.”</p><p>Marchion replaced his arm and made himself more comfortable. He listened as her breathing eased, sleep slowly but surely claiming her. </p><p>He knew he ought to get up. He did have matters to attend to. He decided to wait a few more moments, just to make sure she was truly asleep.</p><p>The next thing he became aware of was that he no longer lay on his side, but rather his back. Sola was now nestled in the crook of his other shoulder, her head and one arm resting on his chest, with her dark hair fanned out behind her. One of her cheeks was slightly squashed against him, and the effect made Marchion smile unconsciously. </p><p>He had no idea how long the two of them had been asleep, but in the moment Marchion found he didn’t much care. He adjusted his hold so that his palm lay on her back, moving her closer. How was he going to let her go? Any moment now, she would come to her senses, remember that he’d promised her her freedom, and demand he make good on his offer of a transport. He couldn’t refuse her. Beyond having given his word, beyond knowing that to keep her here against her will would mean never seeing her in this way again, he was quite sure that whatever she asked of him, he would be powerless to refuse.</p><p>As though she could tell she was being watched, Sola shifted in his arms and stirred.</p><p>“You’re still here,” she said, sounding so surprised it broke his heart.</p><p>“Of course,” he said, suddenly wanting nothing more than to reassure her.</p><p>“I thought you might have- that is- Thank you. For staying. I’m not used to that.”</p><p>“Not even your husband?” he asked, drawing himself up and away from her so he could see her better. She’d told him the man had mostly ignored her, but surely in situations like this…</p><p>She looked up at him from where she lay on her side.</p><p>“<em> If </em> he ever came to my room, the quicker he could be done with me, the better, he would say,” she said, sadness in her eyes. “Once he even told me I disgusted him. That I-” she broke off and shook her head.</p><p>Marchion reached out and pulled her into his arms again, cradling her against his chest. He also kissed the top of her head, as she seemed to have liked that before. He took it as a positive sign that she wrapped an arm around his torso. </p><p>“It’s ok, you don’t have to-” he began.</p><p>“He once said,” Sola continued as though Marchion hadn’t spoken, “that the only thing he could stand was having me suck his cock. Because then he didn’t have to look at me. Or touch me.”</p><p>Marchion didn’t know the exact circumstances of her husband’s death, but he hoped it was slow and extremely painful. He was also deeply relieved he had not thought to ask this of her, no matter how enticing he found the idea of her on her knees, with her plush lips wrapped around him. He doubted the evening would have unfolded as pleasurably as it had. </p><p>He heard a sniffle and saw her hand dart up to her face, hastily wiping tears away.</p><p>“If he couldn’t bear to look at you,” he said, fighting to keep the rage from his voice, “then he never deserved the opportunity.”</p><p>“You don’t have to say that,” she said, her voice thick. “It’s fine.”</p><p>“I hope you know by now that I don’t say things I don’t mean.”</p><p>She turned her body around so that she could look up at him. Tentatively, she reached down to where his hand rested on her hip, and took it in her own.</p><p>“Surprisingly I do. I think that’s what scares me.”</p><p>“So you <em> are </em> afraid of me,” he said, teasing lightly.</p><p>“Not of you, just-” She cast about for the right words, the far-off sadness returning to her eyes.</p><p>“Don’t worry about it now,” he said gently, not wanting their last moments spent in turmoil. He squeezed her fingers. “How do you feel? Sore at all?”</p><p>“Just a little,” she said, before unfortunately noticing the slight swell of his chest. “Proud of yourself, aren’t you?” Her sarcastic tone gave way to a laugh that he couldn’t help but share. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” he said, drawing her fingers up to his lips.</p><p>“Don’t be. I’m not.”</p><p>He kissed his way down her hand, to her wrist and along her arm, slowly lowering himself over her as he did. By the time their lips met, their limbs were hopelessly tangled. With each of her sweet sighs of pleasure, he kissed her with more and more fervour.</p><p>Stars, how was he ever going to let this woman go?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading, as always 😃</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“You would do that? Stay?”</p>
<p>“I would. But I have conditions.”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“You haven’t heard them.”</p>
<p>“I don’t care. Whatever you want, you shall have.” </p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello! </p>
<p>I promise there's actually some plot this time! Enjoy :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>By the time Sola woke up again, Marchion was gone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But rather than the crushing loneliness she’d have felt otherwise, she felt…incandescent. There was still a soreness between her legs, and she was deeply appreciative that the rest of the night's activities had been mostly confined to the upper half of her body. She gingerly peeled back the covers and sure enough, spotted several purple marks sprouting on the tops of her breasts, around her nipples, and down her stomach. She even saw one spot where she could make out the shape of Marchion’s teeth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She ran her fingertips across them smiling appreciatively. What would Aurel say, she wondered bitterly, if he could see her now? Lying naked in the bed of the Nihil leader, swimming in a post-coital haze and covered in the love bites he’d left in an insatiable frenzy because he’d wanted her </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> badly? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aurel would likely have a few choice words, and Tala a few more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But she wouldn’t let imagined insults from them ruin her mood. Not when she was so happy she thought she might levitate clean off the mattress. She sat up, pulling the blanket along with her  to keep away the chill. The room was still dark, but marginally brighter than it had been a few hours prior. This must be what passed for daytime lighting in the Eye’s quarters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Marchion?” she called, to no answer. Perhaps he had stepped out. She couldn’t very well have expected him to lounge around all day, and she wouldn’t let her horrible, intrusive thoughts from the night before dampen her spirits. Not when she could dwell on pleasant memories instead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While marking every conceivable point of her torso with his lips, he’d brought her to completion twice more with his fingers, so gently and so mindful of the tenderness she still felt that she thought she might cry. When her hands crept down to do the same for him, the look on his face had been almost reverential. With the focus solely on him, all the power over his pleasure belonged to her. Under her ministrations, Marchion Ro was as vulnerable as she had ever seen him, eyes closed and hips bucking until he came apart, spilling on her hands and chest. He’d kissed her then, called her all manner of wonderful things, then brought a cloth to clean her up, attentive to the last.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite that, Sola thought now that she would rather enjoy a shower, even a sonic one. She slid out of bed, and crept around to the fresher. Against the back wall was a massive glass door. Objective in sight, she skipped quickly across the cold, stone-like floor and past the absurdly large bathtub. Though the idea of soaking in hot water was appealing, she wasn’t sure she could wait for it to fill up. She slid the shower door open, ready to settle for whatever cleanliness sonic waves could provide. What she saw instead elicited a sound of pleasure far beyond any she’d made the night before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A proper shower. Not the sonic kind that she had back in her quarters, but one with actual water, which made sense given the bath. And it was so much larger and wider than what she had become accustomed to. Stifling a laugh at the image of Marchion trying to fit his wide frame into the narrow shower she shared with Oora, she slipped inside and considered the buttons against the wall. After a couple of false starts - one of which involved her being sprayed directly in the face with an ice-cold stream from a hidden jet - she finally found the correct combination. She stood under the scalding spray, running her fingers through her soaking hair as water coursed in rivers down her body. She hummed an aimless tune as the sweat and stress of the day before ran down the drain, leaving only bliss in its place, until she lost track of how long she’d been standing there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shuffled out of the shower and snatched a towel off the nearest shelf. Squeezing some of the water from her curls, she lamented in advance the state they would be in when they dried, then wrapped herself in the soft cloth and padded out of the fresher. Directly across the room lay a door she hadn’t noticed earlier. Curious, and unsure when Marchion would return, Sola peered inside. A smoky, wooden, somewhat sweet scent wafted out of the very small room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Inside she found herself enveloped in the scent, and absolutely surrounded by clothing. Tunics, jackets, pants, and one entire rack of fur capes confirmed for her that she’d found Marchion’s wardrobe. She dropped the towel to the floor, allowing a single cursory glance at her naked body in the long mirror out of habit, before turning her attention to the tunics. She ran her fingers along them, each nicer than the last, and all smelling like </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The same warm, tangy scent that surrounded her. The same that now clung to her skin after hours in his bed, and a visit to his shower. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The idea of having to put on her dress from last night was deeply unappealing at the present moment. Instead she opted for one of the tunics in front of her - a simple, dark blue without any detailing - and gratefully slid the soft fabric over her body. Despite the swell of her breasts and the size of her hips, the tunic sat comfortably large on her, the hem landing at her upper thigh, and the neck pleasantly wide. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She considered her reflection once again, and giggled at what a poor imitation of Marchion she made, with her wild hair and her legs and feet bare. Seized with mischief, she turned her attention to the capes that hung nearby, and selected a dark one that looked much like the one he’d been wearing the day they met. She lay it over her shoulders, and was surprised by how heavy it actually was. Nevertheless, she straightened her shoulders and stood tall, doing her best to look imperious. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bow before me, Republic scum!” she intoned, pitching her voice lower.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A shadow darkened the entrance to the wardrobe, making her heart stop in her chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If only I looked so alluring dressed like that,” Marchion said. “They might be inspired to follow me for reasons beyond access to the Paths.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t say that,” Sola replied coyly. “You look very alluring dressed like this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that right?” he asked, approaching her and spinning her around. His mouth hovered only centimetres from hers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s just say, that first day, I didn’t want you to fuck me because of your sparkling personality,” Sola muttered, her lips barely brushing his. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion growled and kissed her roughly, his tongue brushing at the seam of her lips until they parted. They stayed that way, entwined in each other's arms until the mood was spoiled by an inhuman growl from Sola’s stomach. She groaned in annoyance and broke away from Marchion, who chuckled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come with me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The night before, in the Great Hall, Marchion had been of the opinion that there existed no more beautiful sight than Sola in a flattering black dress. He’d changed his mind only a few hours later, when he forced himself out of bed and left her behind fast asleep with a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth, her body covered with nothing but the little marks he’d put there himself. Surely, this was the sight that was truly unparalleled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yet now, he found himself updating that assessment a second time as he watched her posing in front of his mirror with a carefree attitude as well as a stern expression and low-pitched voice he suspected were meant to mirror his own. This wasn’t the strong facade she presented to the other Nihil, or the unconscious sweetness and vulnerability she showed when asleep. This was Sola as she truly was, when she felt free to be herself. And that she felt so at ease in his quarters…it almost pained him to interrupt her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is it? Where are we going?” she asked, as he led her back through the bedchamber. She wore only the tunic now, the cape having been carefully replaced.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I recall last night correctly, neither of us had much chance to eat anything before leaving the festivities.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola’s stomach grumbled again in response, and she laughed nervously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re right,” she said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought as much. Which is why I’ve had this sent up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ushered her through the door to his office and steered her past his desk to the window. There sat an old table with a plush, ornate chair on either side. In the centre of the table sat a tray laden with dishes: cut-up fruit in a bowl, rolls, and the odd sampling of food from the night before, including-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seriously?” Sola said, lifting a skewer of meat gingerly with the tips of her fingers and brandishing it accusingly at Marchion. “Who told you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oora,” Marchion replied, laughing at Sola’s obvious shock. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d throw it at you, but I don’t believe in wasting food, no matter how inedibly spicy.” She let it drop back on the plate. Despite her efforts to the contrary, a little of the sauce had trickled down to her fingertips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Allow me,” Marchion said. He took hold of her palm and brought his lips to her stained fingers, slowly sucking each of them clean and never once letting his gaze waver from hers. A pretty blush crept into her cheeks, and she caught her lower lip with her teeth, fire and want burning in her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sit,” he ordered once his task was complete. He kissed her fingertips and let her hand fall, then assumed the seat across from her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She lifted one of the canisters on the tray and unscrewed the top, crossing her eyes in pleasure once the aroma reached her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was </span>
  <em>
    <span>you?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she exclaimed. “The one who left the caf for me in the cockpit that day?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I let Oora and Irami take all the credit for it,” Sola groaned. She sipped at the rich concoction and hummed in delight. “Thank you, however belated my appreciation might be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s nothing quite like fine quality caf for a hangover. Besides I couldn’t risk having you sent off to the medic. Not when I needed you urgently.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola nodded and popped a piece of fruit in her mouth. A thought then occurred to Marchion, dousing his mood like ice water over a flame. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sola,” he said seriously. “Do you need to go to the medic today?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?” She was picking at a roll and appeared confused. “I didn’t have much to drink last night.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“About last night. We weren’t…</span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>wasn’t…careful or considerate. I didn’t even think-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh!” she said, catching on. “No, it’s fine. I have one of the new implants.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion wasn’t convinced.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How can you be sure it’ll work?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Trust me,” Sola said darkly. “It works. I’ve had one for years, since they became available on Cyone. Once it became clear my husband only wanted children to satisfy his mother.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He asked you to get one?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. I got one without telling him. I couldn’t risk my mother-in-law finding out. Let them think me barren, what did I care?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her bitter tone conveyed that despite words to the contrary, she did very much care what they’d said about her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t want children?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I wasn’t opposed to the idea at first, but after a while, every time he would visit me, I would lie awake for hours praying that I wouldn’t get pregnant. He already wanted nothing to do with me. Pregnancy would have made me dependent on him. And a baby would have tied me to him forever.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rage burned inside Marchion, a pure, unadulterated hatred for this nameless, faceless man who’d spent years making Sola miserable and afraid. How did such a man find himself fortunate enough to hold the affection of a woman like this? He couldn’t understand it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“May I ask,” Marchion ventured. “Why marry him at all? It seems as though there wasn’t much affection there. Was it arranged?” He knew some cultures arranged marriages still, but he hadn’t realized it was done among humans in the Core. Sola set what was left of her roll on the table and looked away from him, her eyes fixating on an undetermined point in the vastness of space. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you would rather not-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It wasn’t arranged, but there wasn’t much affection there. At least not from him. Throughout my schooling, I was never…” she hesitated, searching for the words. “Never the girl anyone sought out. Not the prettiest, certainly not the slimmest. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> the wittiest, and I believe I’m fairly intelligent, but those weren’t features anyone was interested in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion fought the urge to interrupt and tell her all the ways in which he disagreed with that assessment of her beauty.  But he knew that to stop her now would be to bring the whole tale to an end.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In my final year at the University, I met my husband. We were in the same program, but where I thrived academically, he struggled. One of our professors sent him to me, for tutoring only…his weaknesses were far beyond what the odd hour here and there could rectify. I did my best, and then some. He was a handsome man and he knew it. He sensed, I think, that I wasn’t used to being in the proximity of handsome men for so long, much less having them speak to me. He took advantage of that. He showered me with attention, with compliments, and before I knew what was happening, I was all but writing his papers for him, I’m ashamed to admit. But he needed to make sure I was still invested in whatever illusion he was painting, that I believed his affection to be real. So a few weeks shy of our graduation, he took me to meet his mother for dinner. A week later he asked me to marry him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened that night?” Marchion asked, astounded at the abrupt turn.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I learned later that she pulled him aside and told him that I was…hearty enough to have strong babies who could be raised to follow in the family business. And I was clearly ’smart enough’ to raise and teach them until their apprenticeships. But I didn’t know this at the time. I believed myself in love.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And what of your family?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m the eldest of ten from the Lower Levels. When I got my scholarship, it was decided I felt myself above everyone else, and we fell out of contact.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re joking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Despite the Chancellor’s assurances, the Core is far from a perfect, glittering hub of equity and equality.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, you got married…” Marchion prompted, lest he become lost in a tirade against Chancellor Soh and her ideals.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The plan was to wed then return to Coruscant for me to continue my studies. I had a place in a post-graduate program, and plans to apply for funding to study Path navigation. We went to Cyone, ostensibly on a honeymoon that kept getting prolonged. I deferred my acceptance by a year, but by then it became clear I wouldn’t be allowed to go back. I lost my place at the University. I believe you have some sense of what his cruelty was like in the years that followed. After that I…gave up. On him. Myself. My future.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her voice caught as she concluded her story. Her eyes screwed shut, tears leaking out of the corner. Marchion was at a complete loss for words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m…I’m sorry,” he said at last.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Despite what you see now, I stopped crying over it a long time ago,” she whispered. She sipped her caf mechanically. She’d been so happy just a few moments ago, and was now retreating within herself again, closing off. Marchion slipped out of his seat and moved around the table to kneel on the floor in front of her chair. He set his palms on the bare skin of her knees. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For you to leave that behind, only to then come here…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would you like to hear the real irony?” Sola scoffed. “I feel far freer here as a captive than I ever did as a wife on Cyone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re no captive, Sola.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aren’t I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion steeled himself. The next words would be among the hardest he ever had to speak.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I meant what I said last night. A ship is at your disposal. You may leave at any time. Find somewhere to go and start over. Return to Coruscant and pursue your studies. Return to Cyone and burn whatever remains of your husband’s house.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She laughed at the last point, some of the light returning to her eyes in the briefest of flickers. She placed her hands on top of his and squeezed them. He pushed himself higher so their eyes were level, and kissed her cheek, catching the salty tang of her tears on his tongue. He then inclined her head down slightly and kissed the scar on her temple.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do you do that?” Sola asked, curiously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The scar. I’ve noticed you pay it as much attention as you do any other part of my face.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Among the Nihil, a scar earned in battle is a point of pride, particularly when one is victorious.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hardly won that battle,” Sola muttered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh no? How many do you know who encounter the Nihil and walk away with their lives?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ran his hands slowly up her thighs, in a bid to distract her from the low turn her mood had taken. It seemed to work. Her breath hitched as she replied.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very few?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very good,” he said. “And of those few, how many have ever had the Eye of the Nihil on his knees before them?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um…” She appeared to have lost the ability to speak. “Even fewer?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You, my dear, are the first.” He lifted one thigh over his shoulder and kissed it slowly. His lips slowly worked their way up her leg. Her eyes remained fixed on him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What- what are you doing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion paused agonizingly close to the uncovered patch of curls between her legs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I should have thought that was obvious.” He meant to resume kissing her, until he realized the muscle of her thigh had gone rigid. “Do you not like this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I- I don’t know,” she whispered, embarrassed. “Neither Garran nor my husband ever-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would you like me to stop?” he asked. “Or shall I show you how irresistible I find you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola took a deep breath, and let her legs fall open a little wider.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want you to show me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Who is this brazen woman, and what has she done with me?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sola wondered as Marchion resumed his slow journey up her thigh. The morning ought to have been totally spoiled once she began spelling out every miserable detail of her marriage, but it had somehow been totally salvaged. He might have more questions later, and this wasn’t the last time the spectre of Aurel would haunt her, but she felt unburdened for the first time in years.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was also starting to feel something altogether more pleasant tingling up her spine. Marchion guided her hips forward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Put your other thigh over my shoulder,” he ordered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola complied at once and Marchion chuckled adjusting his position to lower his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So,” he said, “you </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> take orders without talking back. I like this side of you.” He planted a kiss on her pelvis.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola opened her mouth to prove him wrong, but whatever witty reply she’d formulated vanished, replaced by a sharp intake of breath as Marchion parted her folds and placed a sensuous kiss against her clit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bad?” he asked quickly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” she whispered, wrapping her legs around him a little more comfortably.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,’ he repeated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He kissed her there again, then swapped his mouth out for his tongue. He drew a languorous stripe up along her core, humming with approval as she grew wetter and wetter by the second. He continued to lap at her slowly, letting pressure build up in her abdomen, then reintroduced his lips, nibbling and sucking at her clit once more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Marchion,” Sola breathed, half in encouragement, half in praise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you enjoying this, sweetheart?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So much.” She gripped the seat of her chair and let her head fall back, moaning with every lap of his tongue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you need more?” he asked, the timbre of his voice vibrating through her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>More?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She thought in a frenzy. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s an option?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As if sensing her confusion, he brushed a finger along her entrance. Her cunt clenched at once and Marchion laughed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that a yes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. More. Please,” she panted. He pushed a finger into her, followed shortly after by a second, drawing out a prolonged moan from her. He curled them both, pressing into a spot no one had ever reached before, one she had never managed to find. The cry she let out was obscene. He worked her at the same pace, as though he had all the time in the world. A shiver built up in her chest, a tingling in her throat begging to manifest as a scream. Her breath came in quickly, as her body tried to grow used to the new sensation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you’re ready to come, don’t hold back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stars. So close, I-</span>
  <em>
    <span>ooh</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” She came hard, her hips rolling against Marchion’s face of their own volition. She dropped back into her seat breathing hard. He glanced up at her and wiped his glistening mouth with the back of his hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should eat something,” he ordered, the growl in his voice offset by the tenderness with which he kissed her. “Regain your energy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So I can keep making sure this ship runs properly while you take all the credit?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes so you-” He paused. “Sola? Are you saying-?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you think?” she whispered, still dazed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You would do that? Stay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would. But I have conditions.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You haven’t heard them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t care. Whatever you want, you shall have.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll hold you to that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I won’t have you feeling trapped here,” he said seriously. “Your ship will always stand ready, and you can leave at any time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I don’t know about that.” She sat up straight and looked at him earnestly. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Someone</span>
  </em>
  <span> has to ensure the Nihil’s survival after all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola snorted at his disbelieving expression and buried her face in her hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The insolence,” he scolded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you going to do about it?” she teased.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion scooped her up and carried her back to the bed, depositing her roughly on the soft surface. The tunic she wore was torn off and thrown to the side, so that she lay bare beneath him once more. He bitterly promised to extract an apology from her, but the tenderness in his eyes told a different story entirely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does my staying mean we get to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> more often?” she sighed, winding her fingers through his hair as he kissed his way down her body. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course.” He planted a messy kiss on her inner thigh. “What if I just keep you locked up in here? To be my little plaything? To fuck you at my convenience?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um-”  Sola knew he wasn’t serious, but still she hesitated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion froze, his breath torturously close to where she wanted his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me what you’re thinking.” All traces of jest were gone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I- I wouldn’t mind…except…I really wanted to try and fill in the rest of that Emergence data.” The last few words came out in a rush.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion stared up at her from between her legs, his face inscrutable. Telling him she wouldn’t mind spending her life being worshipped in this way, except there was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>navigational problem</span>
  </em>
  <span> she wanted to solve? She covered her eyes, and lay back down, thoroughly embarrassed by how ridiculous she sounded. Then, before she knew what was happening, he threw her calves over his shoulders and buried his face between her legs again. She let out a hoarse shout as his lips made contact with her bud, kissing it roughly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Marchion, what-?” she yelped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My clever little navigator,” he growled against her. “So keen to show me how smart she is, because she knows I find it irresistible.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t, I-” she broke off with a moan as his tongue licked along her folds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you have any idea how hard I’ll get now when I think about you sitting alone in the cockpit, surrounded by your work? A woman so brilliant she directs the entire Nihil fleet, could go anywhere, do anything, and yet is still willing to stay here and let me taste her, fuck her, have her in any way I please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ran his sinful tongue along her folds again, then went back to kissing and mouthing at her clit, with far less gentleness than he’d shown the first time. He was a man possessed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pressed two fingers into her heat at once, and curled them deliciously while his lips continued teasing that most sensitive part of her. Her eyes screwed shut and her gasps turned rough. She grabbed onto the covers with one hand and his hair with the other, bucking against his face, heels digging into his back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Stars</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she breathed. “I should talk about my work more often.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sweetheart,” he panted. “Come for me now, and I’ll have all the Emergence data sent here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You will?” she keened, deliriously close to climaxing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to watch you figure it all out while I play with this pretty pussy of yours, my brilliant, beautiful girl.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola shattered under the praise and the promises he made, a stream of semi-coherent moans filling the air around them while his fingers stroked her down from her high.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want you to do something for me," he said, pulling his hand from her boneless body.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anything,” she sighed in a daze, her eyes unfocused. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t move.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He eased her legs off his shoulders and wrapped them around his middle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing now?” she asked, still not completely recovered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m a man of my word. And since I’ve just tasted you-” He kissed her for emphasis, letting her taste herself. “I’m going to fuck you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tugged down his pants and lined himself up with her, pressing in with a single, slow thrust. At the stretch, Sola suppressed a whimper, clinging to his arms and resting her forehead against his shoulder. He held her face gently and kissed her until she relaxed around him, and the pinch eased. He took her hands and threaded their fingers together, then slammed them down on the bed and rocked against her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Overstimulated already, Sola cried out and dropped her head against the mattress. Marchion pushed into her quicker and with more fervour than he had the night before, no longer worried that she would break at his touch. She rocked her hips to meet his with as much energy as she could muster, already on the precipice of cresting yet again. This wasn’t  the tender lovemaking of the night before. It was fevered, but no less passionate. In the right hands, Sola found she didn’t mind when things became a little rougher. Not when she still felt so safe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Trust, she supposed, was the key component.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When she finally fell apart, Marchion’s name spilling from her lips, she could do nothing but lay there as he took his pleasure, finally finishing inside of her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” he asked, when he’d caught his breath. “I didn’t hurt you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You couldn’t,” she assured him. “You feel so good inside me. Only-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only what?” He looked worried.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> showered. Now I feel like I should again.” She kissed him hard. “Join me?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The great misfortune of having an entire fleet at his command was that Marchion could not, in fact, spend the foreseeable future confined to his bed with his pretty navigator. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After they’d gotten out of the shower, actually eaten some food and fallen asleep in each other's arms, he made good on his promise to bring the Emergence data up to Sola. A promise he came to regret when it became clear they couldn’t simply remain as they were.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t do this,” she sighed. She was lying on her side, flipping through her datapad. Marchion lay behind her, cradling her body against his. His hand stroked her thigh, and he nipped at her shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can’t do what?” he muttered against her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t work it all out from here. The readout is too small. I need a proper holomap.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She switched off the datapad and dropped it against the covers, rubbing her eyes in frustration. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not saying we have to get up, are you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think I am,” she said sadly. She flipped around, and brought her lips to the base of his throat. “We can stay here, though. If you want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was tempted to agree, if only so she would keep kissing him the way she was. Her lips had travelled down to his chest and across to his shoulders. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, you’re right. We’ve hidden away long enough. Oora’s probably worried sick about you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He chuckled and took a hold of her, rolling onto his back so she lay across his chest. Her lips were still seeking out every part of his body they could reach.. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” he asked, amused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Savouring you,” she replied, looking up. “In case I’m about to wake up alone in my bunk and it turns out this was all a dream.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does that happen often?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. But I still can’t quite believe this is real.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I promise you. It is.” he said, wrapping his arms around her and pressing her body against his. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I should go back to my quarters,” she mumbled, her squashed cheek making her words come out in a slur. “Change into something other than my dress.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should,” Marchion agreed, not letting her out of his vice-like grip. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite the reluctance of everyone involved, Sola did eventually wiggle out of his embrace and change back into her clothing with the promise of meeting him in his ready room in half an hour. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The half hour couldn’t arrive soon enough for his liking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The moment she was gone from his quarters, the space suddenly feeling too large, Marchion dressed hurriedly and took the passageway up to his ready room. When Sola strode in exactly 28 minutes later, it felt as though it had been a lifetime since he’d seen her last. He rose from the throne to greet her, and met her at the holotable. Rather than standing at the opposite end of the table, as she usually did, Sola stood directly beside Marchion as he activated the partial holomap of Emergence data. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that better?” he asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Much,” Sola sighed, lighting up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stepped in front of him to access the control panel, and started to acquaint herself with how it all worked. Fully in navigator mode, not a single word nor glance was spared for Marchion. Not that he let any of that bother him. He stepped off to the side and leaned against the edge of the table watching her work. The way her brow furrowed at the unfamiliar controls. Her look of alarm when the command she selected did not do as she expected or desired. That sharp gasp of delight when everything suddenly made sense.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you looking at?” she asked, not taking her eyes off the holomap.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You. I’ve never actually watched you work before.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And what’s your verdict?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Radiant.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She grinned sheepishly, and allowed her eyes to flicker in his direction for the briefest of seconds. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Marchion, about my conditions. For staying here-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Name them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Beyond the freedom to leave whenever I choose…” she hesitated. “The civilians. Those who rise in defence of the Republic…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sola-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Leave them out of it. Please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t just suddenly change a tactic that we have been employing since my father was Eye.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Even when you know it’s wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> know that it’s wrong. Only that you believe it to be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She took her hands off the console and stepped away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You said you would do anything I asked. And you said you were a man of your word. Were those both lies then? Some trick to get me to stay and warm your bed?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sola, do you truly think that?” he asked, wounded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How could I not?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was at a loss for words. Sola, however, was not.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When I generated short-term sequences for half the fleet, to keep them safe from the Emergences-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t start-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, let me finish. When I did that, I very easily could have made sure things went wrong. I could have navigated every ship but this one directly into a path of destruction and you would never know until it was too late. I could have used the ensuing chaos to try and escape, saving only myself. I didn’t. Because for all that the Nihil are, you are still sentient beings in the galaxy trying to live and do right by your own. All I am asking, is for you to give the same consideration to others living in the Outer Rim.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The air around them turned tense. Sola’s eyes bored holes in the floor, so determined was her stare.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” Marchion said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” he repeated. “It’s done. Your condition shall be met.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do, Sola. I promise you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” she whispered. She wavered on the spot, then took two steps forward and embraced him, her face buried against his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lifted her and sat her on the edge of the table, the bluish light illuminating her from behind and making her look like a figure out of a myth. Albeit a figure in very sensible clothing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t work while I’m seated like this,” she protested, nevertheless wrapping her legs around his waist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can put you down,” he offered, his nose brushing hers with a featherlight touch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you dare.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him hard. His own hands found purchase in the fabric of her soft jacket and held on so tightly he nearly tore it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wish you two weren’t so predictable, but here we are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sola froze, as did Marchion. They’d been so wrapped up in one another, neither heard the door open. He stepped back and let her hop down from her seat to better face the newcomer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, I’d expected to have to gather more intel for the next little while, and here you are, so graciously giving me everything I need,” Garran sneered. His gaze shifted to Sola. “Is that where </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’ve</span>
  </em>
  <span> been for the last day? Giving him everything </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> needs?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Marchion ever questioned whether or not to let Garran’s crude insinuation slide, his mind was made up for him when he saw Sola standing there, looking as though she’d been slapped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He surged forward and grabbed Garran, then slammed the Mirialan down on the holotable so hard the display cracked. The image flickered and disappeared, darkening the room considerably. In the ensuing confusion, Marchion drew a vibroblade from the sheath at his waist and pressed it to Garran’s throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Explain to me why I shouldn’t kill you right now,” Marchion hissed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I take it you haven’t given my proposal any thought,” Garran replied coolly, as though his windpipe weren’t in very real danger of being crushed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I told you. Not interested,” Marchion bit out. He pressed down ever so slightly with the blade, drawing a trickle of blood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Careful,” Garran said, still too casually considering the new injury he sported. “You wouldn’t want this getting out as well would you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pointed upwards, but Marchion refused to take his eyes off his sneering face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is it, Sola?” he asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A small droid,” she replied. “Looks like his holocam.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look how smart she is,” Garran said. “Now be just as smart and put me down, or </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>the footage I’ve captured becomes widely available.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We still outnumber him,” Sola muttered. “Let him go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marchion removed his hand from Garran’s body, and the Mirialan struggled to his feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is this you being soft-hearted, baby?” Garran crooned. “That’s good. It’ll serve you well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s that supposed to mean?” she spat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here’s how this is going to go. Either you, Marchion, give me free reign to do as I please, or I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> make your secret known as assume your place as the Eye.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The others will never follow you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure. Lourna Dee has been less than impressed with you of late. Says you’ve become erratic and…” his eyes raked over Sola, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>distracted.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Our conversation in the Great Hall after the two of you, ahem, vanished, was quite illuminating.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Even if you assume my role, your secret will be the same as mine,” Marchion growled. “It’s not as though you can navigate the Paths on your own.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“True. But if I were to enter into it honestly, with a pretty navigator at my side-” he brushed a hand against her cheek. She slapped it away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Feisty. This is new for you, Sola. Well?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked back at Marchion, who was seething. One of his hands rested on his blaster, holstered at his hip. His fingers had just curled around the handle, when a soft, warm weight settled on top of his hand. Sola’s fingers squeezed his palm and he relaxed his grip. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tonight,” she said carefully. “In the Great Hall. You’ll have your answer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The navigator speaks for the Eye now?” Garran asked, amused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The navigator speaks for herself. And she is instrumental to your plan, is she not?” Sola snapped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Garran held out his hands in mock surrender.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tonight then. I do want to keep my…</span>
  <em>
    <span>navigator</span>
  </em>
  <span> happy, after all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On that insinuating note, Garran left them alone to the crushing silence and darkness of the ready room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sola, what-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She held a finger to her lips and pointed upwards. Of course. The droid. Hand in hand, she guided him silently towards the door that led to his quarters. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In silence, they walked down the stairs and along the corridor until they reached his private office once again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sola, you can’t possibly be serious. Working with </span>
  <em>
    <span>him?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not going to. You think I don’t know what it means, to align myself with him? If he’s Eye, what do you think happens to you? What do you suppose he’ll do to </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>? No. I won’t have any part of this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you saying?” Marchion asked, dread rising up his spine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need to leave, Marchion.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If his ship had come crashing down around him, he would have felt less devastated. Who knew that five words could make him feel as though the whole world were ending.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t. Please, Sola. Don’t go,” he said desperately. “I’ll give him the free reign he wants, and we can just-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think he’ll stop there? He won’t. He’s got a taste of power and he won’t stop until he takes it all. And me along with it, because he knows it’ll hurt you more.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But…we haven’t had enough time,” Marchion said, knowing how sentimental it sounded, and caring very little.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A lifetime with you wouldn’t be enough” Sola said, tears sparkling in her eyes. “But I will always treasure </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span> about the last few weeks, particularly the last two days.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You say that like I’ll never see you again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She surged forward and enveloped his neck in her arms, her lips drawn to his. He would never figure out how there could be such finality in so intimate an action.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s better this way,” she said quietly. “Trust me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She set her head on his shoulder, and he held her close.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The shuttle bay. The same with the transports that conveyed you to the Great Hall. There’s a shuttle. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Solemnity</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It’s yours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you. For that and…” she looked up at him. “I was withering away before I got here. Thank you for helping me get my life back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go. Before I change my mind and keep you here anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t,” she said, a statement rather than a challenge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. I wouldn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sola dropped out of the Path at some distance from the colossal glittering space station, so unlike the grungy Nihil vehicles to which she’d become accustomed. Her comms crackled to life at once.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Unknown vehicle, this is Republic Station </span>
  <em>
    <span>Starlight Beacon. </span>
  </em>
  <span>identify yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Starlight Beacon</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she replied. “This is shuttle </span>
  <em>
    <span>Solemnity</span>
  </em>
  <span>, requesting immediate docking.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*gasp* plot twist</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! Who knows how long this will go on, but I hope you'll join me for it!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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